


Of Puppy Piles and Sugar Dreams

by StarShineForMe



Series: Sterek Daddies & Little Isaac [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alpha Derek, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Derek, De-Aged Isaac Lahey, De-Aged Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, Living Together, M/M, Pack Dad Derek Hale, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek Hale, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Slow Build, Toddler speak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-10-11 12:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20545991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarShineForMe/pseuds/StarShineForMe
Summary: In which Isaac and Scott get de-aged, the pack must learn to bond and protect their own, and Derek ("Dewek!") and Stiles ("Sti-ewes!") are mates...even if it takes them forever and two toddlers to realize it.“Oh, God.” Stiles buries his face in his hands, water dripping down his wrists.“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Derek whips out a towel, wrapping it around Stiles’ forearms, pulling them away from Stiles’ body so he can look them over.“I’m fine,” Stiles says, a little blankly. Erica and Boyd have set Issac and Scott back onto the floor, tickling them both into fits of giggles. He huffs out a noise that’s not quite a whimper, not quite a laugh. “Just wondering when the hell I ended up in my very own episode of ‘Teen Mom’.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Of Puppy Piles and Sugar Dreams (Traduccion)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20581649) by [yuki_yuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuki_yuki/pseuds/yuki_yuki)

> I am a sucker for De-Aged fics. And Pack Mom Stiles. And Pack Daddy Derek. Plus Sterek
> 
> Enjoy

Stiles stands, for once speechless, as he takes in the scene before him and listens to what Derek has to say.

Except there’s no way he heard correctly, because witches, toddler, beta, wolf, pup…no.

Just no.

Stiles wiggles a finger inside one ear. “Can you say that again? There’s no way you just said…what I think you just said.”

Derek lifts his eyes heavenward, like it takes a divine power to help him tolerate Stiles, and okay yeah maybe sometimes it does. “You heard me, Stiles. And you can clearly see him.”

“Right. And by him, you mean…” Stiles gestures helplessly towards the sofa.

Where Issac is sitting.

Rephrase.

Where _two year old _Issac is sitting, propped deep into the cushions and surrounded by several pillows. He has one of Derek’s shirts on, the grey Henley Stiles loves so much -wait, what?- and he’s drowning in it.

It’s fucking adorable.

But. “There’s no way. What the hell makes you think I can babysit? Why can’t your other betas do it?”

“Because Boyd and Erica are scouting out a possible new pack trying to edge onto our territory, Lydia has Jackson knee deep in homecoming plans, and Scott…well, would you trust him alone with your two-year-old?”

Stiles absolutely does not melt at Derek’s possessive reference to toddler baby Issac. “Heh. No. Scott _is_ a two year old.”

Derek nods. “Exactly.”

Stiles frantically grabs onto Derek’s jacket before he can head out the door. “Okay but just. What…what do I do with him?”

“You keep him safe,” Derek says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Feed him if he gets hungry, change him if-“

“Change him?” Stiles squawks.

“…he needs it, cuddle him if-“

“Did the big bad Alpha just say cuddle?”

“..he gets whiny,” Derek finishes, and Stiles doesn’t know what to think about how easily Derek skates on past his chatter. Derek palms his keys and flips down his sunglasses, and really, no one should look that hot in aviators. “You just, I don’t know, do what comes naturally.”

Was he crazy? “Do I need to remind you I’m an only child? There is nothing about taking care of toddlers that comes naturally to me. I mean, babies, yeah, totally. Who doesn’t love babies? They smell good, and they’re all chubby and snuggly, and-“

“You’ve helped keep Scott alive all these years, haven’t you?”

Stiles considers the question before he even thinks to wonder whether or not Derek is kidding. “Well, I guess, but-“

“And maybe you haven’t realized, but you’ve been helping me run pack meetings for months now, which are essentially haphazard gatherings of a bunch of overgrown puppies?”

He wasn’t wrong. “Sure, but-“

“Just keep him alive, Stiles! At least until I get back.”

“Oh my Goddddd, fine!” His dramatic display is wasted, however, as Derek is already gone.

Stiles slumps onto the couch, wondering what the hell to do with a toddler-sized Issac. Legos, maybe?

“Hey there, little man. Who tried to kill me once. And who is like a foot taller than me in real life. I mean this is real life but…oh my god you are so small, how is this real life and what made your Alpha think I can do this?? Derek! Come back!”

His shouts fall into an empty room.

Issac sits on the couch, his tiny mouth open just enough that a drop of drool pools in the corner.

“I can’t do this,” Stiles informs him, slumping down onto the cushion next to Issac.

But then Isaac plops himself halfway into Stiles’ lap, and there is no malice in his tiny expression, only worry, and Stiles melts a little.

“Sti-ewes?” Isaac says, small and hesitant and…_childlike._

Stiles blinks, and his breath catches. “Oh my gawd.” He hauls the toddler into his lap and cuddles him, and something deep inside is yanking on his heartstrings. “Come here.” He noses at Issac’s neck, and the little pup giggles.

Derek could be gone for all eternity, and Issac would still be safe. Because as long as Stiles is around, nothing, _no one, _is gonna hurt this little baby wolf.

Stiles is watching _Cars_ with Isaac in his lap when Boyd and Erica burst through the door. Issac startles, but Stiles shushes him with a soothing hand to his back. He can hear Boyd and Erica bickering, but he’s too busy watching Lightning McQueen plead his case to the town court to really pay attention to what they’re saying.

“No way! You tell him.”

“I’m not telling him.”

“Fuck, at least Derek isn’t here.”

“True. Telling Stiles first might keep us alive.”

“Right. He will run interference.”

“Alpha is not gonna be happy.”

“Stiles will keep him-“

“Excuse me, Stiles will do what now?” Stiles finally takes his eyes off of the T.V., after hearing his name so many times. “Why is Derek going to kill you? And if that’s his intent, how would I possibly stop it? Also…” He unconsciously holds Isaac tighter as his eyes fall downward. “Who…the hell…please don’t tell me…oh, Christmas cheese on a cracker. Do not tell me that…that…is…”

“Sty-wes!” A tiny brunette with shaggy hair wiggles his way out of Erica’s grip and launches himself onto the couch. Tiny hands smack his cheeks. “Sty-wes!” The little boy says again.

Stiles suddenly knows why Derek is going to kill them. “Hey,” he says cautiously. “Hey there, Scotty.”

It takes all of his focus and then some to calmly dial Derek. “Hey, Der? Yeah…all that stuff you went out to get for Issac? Double it. Double everything. I’ll explain when you get back.”

_One week later_

“Hey!” Stiles yells, wrists deep in sudsy water in a sink full of dishes. “No running in the house!”

“It’s an apartment!” Erica yells back as she runs back and forth across the living room, Issac giggling his head off from where he’s perched on her shoulders.

“Faster, Bowyd, faster!” Scott commands from atop Boyd. “You stwonger! Be faster!”

“Oh, hell no,” Erica challenges. “No way are we losing this apartment race.”

“It’s a loft,” Stiles corrects, even though he’s essentially correcting himself. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, allowing himself a moment of fantasy. “A penthouse. With servants and maids and butlers and someone to feed me bon-bons whilst I relax in my chaise lounge-“

Derek snickers at him the second he walks in the door. “Wishing you were living the high life, Stiles?” he asks as he enters the kitchen.

Stupid werewolf hearing, Stiles thinks. “Hey,” he says, rinsing another stack of breakfast dishes. “A boy can dream.”

“Hmm.” Derek is unloading several bags of groceries into the pantry and the fridge. “They were out of unsweetened almond milk, so I got vanilla.”

“Derek! That has so much sugar!”

“Not that much!” Derek brushes Stiles’ side as he washes his hands in the sudsy sink. “What was I gonna do, not get any at all?”

“Whatever. Oh, Isaac wet the bed again last night. His sheets are in the washer.”

“Okay. I’ll switch ‘em in a sec.” Derek pauses, and frowns. “This is the third time in a week. Do you think…” he trails off, biting his lip.

Stiles unplugs the stopper, letting the sink drain. “Think that we should worry that he’s somehow ripping off his diaper- oh man, would he ever kill us if he knew we have to change his diapers, we were on the lacrosse team together, for craps sake- and pissing the bed?”

Derek blows out a breath. “Yeah. That.”

Stiles shrugs. “I mean, the only times he didn’t do it-“

“Were when he was sleeping with one of us.”

“Yep,” Stiles says, popping the ‘p’. “Oh, God.” He buries his face in his hands, water dripping down his wrists.

“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Derek whips out a towel, wrapping it around Stiles’ forearms, pulling them away from Stiles’ body so he can look them over. 

“I’m fine,” Stiles says, a little blankly. Erica and Boyd have set Issac and Scott back onto the floor, tickling them both into fits of giggles. He huffs out a noise that’s not quite a whimper, not quite a laugh. “Just wondering when the hell I ended up in my very own episode of ‘Teen Mom’.”

This was all Stiles’ fault, Derek concludes later that night.

He isn’t sure how. Hell, he knows his reasoning is less than solid. But somehow, he knows, it’s all. Stiles’. Fault.

Because nothing in Derek’s life had made sense from the second that spastic, doe-eyed, sweet, annoying, fucking beautiful teen had entered his life.

Derek rolls over onto his back, blowing out a breath towards the ceiling. He takes a couple of deep inhales, and then focuses on his hearing and sense of smell.

An Alpha always has tabs on his pack.

Boyd and Erica are passed out together in Boyd’s room. From the second guestroom Stiles’ breathing isn’t exactly even, but it’s deep enough to indicate sleep, and there’s a smaller heartbeat next to his. Scott, Derek knows.

Which means Isaac is still on his own, in his own room. Which means it’s probably only a matter of time before-

Yep. That’s when he hears it. The steadily increasing sound of little paws, running down the hallway.

Derek is braced for it when Isaac jumps onto his chest. “Dewek?”

“Hey,” Derek says, as his heart melts out his body. “Can’t sleep?”

Issac shakes his head. “Want you.”

“Yeah.” Derek shuffles down in the bed a little bit, so he can rearrange his head on his pillow and Issac can use his chest and shoulder as his. “Okay.”

Issac settles in, and puffs out uneven breaths. Derek’s hand immediately comes up to brush against golden curls, and he has to fight to keep his claws in, when he thinks of everything teenaged Isaac went through before turning. “It’s okay, pup. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Dewek,” Issac says again, calmer this time. He cuddles into the crook of Derek’s neck, and is silent for about three minutes, and then he says, “Sti-ewes?”

Derek swallows, hard, because he doesn’t need to be thinking of Stiles while he’s lying in bed half-naked and cuddling one of his pups. “He’s sleeping, pup. With Scotty.”

“He come in?”

Yeah, Derek thinks. In his dreams. When it’s just the two of them, and Stiles comes into his room, hesitant but certain, wanting, needing, begging-

Fuck. Derek shifts his legs, orders his wolf to calm the hell down.

“Not tonight, pup.” Derek moves his fingers back and forth along Isaac’s scalp, a soothing motion that always helped him sleep when he was younger. “Go to sleep.”

Isaac presses closer, and does just that.

“Sty-wes?”

Scott’s voice is tiny, innocent, and Stiles’ heart melts a little.

Okay, not a little. A lot. It’s a giant puddle, on the floor beneath the bed, because Scott is so little, so adorable, and-

“You sweepin’?”

Stiles blinks his eyes open. “Yeah, bud, I was. Are you okay?”

Scott sits up, his hair and his pajama shirt all rumpled. “Yeah. Isaac sweepin’?”

The corners of Stiles’ mouth lift upward, even though he’s so, so tired. “Probably. It’s still kinda late, how about we go back to sleep too?”

“’Kay.” Scott lets himself fall over, back onto Stiles’ chest, and he giggles at the ‘oomf’ Stiles lets out.

“Sty-wes?”

“Yeah, bud.” Stiles already has an arm around Scott, his eyes are closed again, and he’s halfway to sleep.

“Yous comfy.”

A sleepy grin breaks out on Stiles’ face. “You know what, bud?” Stiles hugs Scott closer. “So are you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you for the awesome response to this fic! I will update as frequently as I can <3

When Derek comes downstairs the next morning, it’s to an even fuller house than usual.

Stiles’ father is on his hands and knees in the living room, a huge grin on his face as Issac rides on his back. His little fists are in John’s hair, and tiny squeals of delight are filling the air. Scott is underneath them on his back, giggling his head off as John ducks his head to blow raspberries against Scott’s stomach.

“N-no, Papa, stop! Tickles!” Scott grabs for John’s head, laughing every time the man looks like he’s going to take a break.

Derek can’t help the smile that spreads across his own face as he watches. A hot mug of coffee is pushed into his hands, and he looks down with a grateful smile to see Scott’s mom smiling beside him.

Lydia is here, next to Jackson on the couch, and Stiles is already in the kitchen, hands flailing across multiple pans and plates, his ear tucked against his shoulder as he talks into his phone.

Derek sips the coffee, letting the noise that once would have pissed him off and driven him crazy wash over him with something he’s afraid to call peace. “Thank you,” he tells Scott’s mom…Melissa, he remembers. He glances back at Stiles, raising a brow in question. Stiles mouths _Deaton_, at him, and Derek nods.

“Not so bad, is it? Letting people in?”

Derek blinks at her.

Melissa just grins over her mug, and this time it’s she who’s lifting her brows. “Into your house, I mean. You don’t exactly seem to be one for big parties.”

He cocks his head, and stops himself from squinting at her just in time. “Perceptive,” is all he says. She can take it to mean what she likes.

“Hmm,” is her only reply.

Derek gives her one last look, his mouth curving despite himself. He leaves her for the kitchen – for Stiles- and shoulders the boy out of the way so he can take over frying the bacon before Stiles’ lets it burn.

He sets the strips onto some paper towels to drain, and stands next to Stiles so he can focus on Deaton’s voice over the din from the living room. Stiles tilts the phone to project between Derek and himself.

“…not something easily messed with,” Deaton is saying. “If it is, in fact, a curse or a spell, then you may have to eliminate the one who cast it. Or, you could try to figure out why it was cast in the first place, and satisfy the requirements intended.”

“Eliminate?” Stiles says.

“Kill,” Derek growls.

Stiles smacks him upside the head, and says, “I have a dictionary, smartass.”

“Hello, Derek,” Deaton says without missing a beat. Derek grunts in response.

“What Sourwolf meant to say is, how do we figure out the nature of the spell, curse, whatever, to be able to satisfy the, you know, whole reason for doing it?” Stiles asks Deaton.

“I’m afraid that unless you can track down who did it, or any witnesses to it happening, the chances of that are fairly small.”

“Great,” Derek mutters.

A timer goes off on the stove, making Stiles jump. “Thanks, Doc. Gotta go. We’ll see what we come up with and keep you posted. Oh, and thanks for giving the pups the once over last week.” Stiles hangs up and flips the pancakes, whistling and shaking his hips to some tune in his head as he does so.

Derek gives him five seconds to clue him in, because seriously? “Well?”

“Ahh!” Stiles whirls around, plate full of pancakes in hand. “Unnecessary!” He pokes Derek in the chest with the spatula flipper. “Jeez, I thought you went back to the living room. Go. Do that. Tell the hoard that food is ready.”

“Where are Boyd and Erica?” he asks, even as he goes to the other room to do as Stiles asked. He’ll still hear the response.

“Coffee shop,” he hears Stiles say. “They deserve a break.”

Derek doesn’t disagree. As he sits around the table with Stiles, his betas, two adult humans, and two toddlers, it hits him just how much his pack has stepped up to help.

Especially Stiles.

He puts an extra slice of bacon and another pancake onto Stiles’ plate, and once Stiles is done futilely trying to wipe Isaac’s face of maple syrup, he gives Derek a grin of thanks, and Derek downs his entire mug of burning coffee to hide just how much that look affects him.

“Nope. No argument. Melissa and I will take the kids tonight,” his dad says, holding up his hands to any objections. “You boys need a break. And some sleep. And for god’s sake, Stiles, a shower.”

Stiles smells his pits. “They aren’t that…yeah, okay. Shower would rock. But, Dad-”

“Nope.” His dad swings Issac into his arms. “No argument. You need to take care of yourself, if you’re going to keep taking care of these boys.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, giving in. Derek is beside him, watching his dad and Melissa with a grateful look, and it’s only then that Stiles really notices the dark rimming Derek’s eyes. Sleep, he thinks, sleep would be good for both of them.

But he hates that he can’t do this, hates that his dad is helping him yet again, hates that-

“Stiles,” Derek says quietly. “It’s okay. Look.”

Did he say any of that out loud? But he does as Derek says, and he looks towards the front door, where his dad and Scott’s mom are bundling up the toddlers – the early October chill had swooped in fast- and cooing at them…and each other?

“Woah,” Stiles says. He knew his dad and Melissa had been spending a lot of time together, but-

“We’ll bring them back tomorrow after lunch,” his dad is saying. “I’ve got to go to the station, and Melissa has the night shift tomorrow.”

How the hell does his dad know that?

“But until then,” Melissa says, “we are going to spoil these kids rotten and do our best to return them to you with the highest of sugar highs.”

Derek is suddenly outside, helping his dad transfer car seats while Stiles cuddles Issac goodbye, and excuse him, just what the hell is happening here?

“Oh, honey.” Melissa cups his cheek, Scott already asleep on her hip. “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

Stiles looks at her blankly, and for some reason he doesn’t think she’s talking about the two toddlers held between them. He nods, then blinks himself back to reality when Isaac pats his cheeks. "Sti-ewes?"

“It’s okay, little man,” he tells him. “You’ll be back tomorrow. You have fun with Papa and Mama McCall, okay? No funny business. Be on your best wolfy behavior.”

“Rawr!” Issac holds up his hands to Stiles and giggles.

“Rawr!” Stiles says back, burying his face in Isaac’s middle. Isaac giggles, and it hits Stiles how quickly he’s gotten used to this little imp being a part of his life.

But he can’t deny Melissa the time with her own little baby boy (“I have to work, Stiles, but I still want to see my baby”) or the look on his dad’s face as he gets to enjoy being a father slash grandpa (“I’ve got this, Stiles, I know my way around energetic little boys, hmm?"), so he watches them pull out of the drive, and ignores the odd, empty feeling he has at seeing them go.

“You okay?” Derek asks, and Stiles feels a hand press into the small of his back.

And suddenly it isn’t weird, that he stayed behind. It isn’t weird that he’s still at Derek’s, with Jackson and Lydia passed out on the floor beside Erica and Boyd, instead of going home with his father. It isn’t weird that he lets Derek lead him back into the living room, or that he pulls the blanket off the couch instead of heading upstairs, or that Derek doesn’t go that way either.

Somehow, it’s not weird that while two mini members of their pack are off with their other guardians, Stiles and Derek both fall onto the couch, somewhat together, one blanket around them and the four other betas nearby.

It’s not weird that when Derek pulls him close, one arm slung protectively around his waist, Stiles passes out for a solid ten hours, the best sleep he’s had in months.


	3. Chapter 3

“My dad and Melissa said they’d be back next weekend,” Stiles tells him as he changes Isaac on the living room floor.

Something twists inside Derek’s chest as he watches Stiles coo at the pup, kissing Isaac’s tummy as he swiftly swaps the dirty diaper for a clean one.

“Dewek.” Scott is tugging on his jeans. “Dewek swing!”

Derek picks Scott up, but denies his request. “After lunch, pup. Then a nap.”

“No,” Scott says conversationally. “No nap.”

“Yes, nap,” Derek counters, before he realizes he’s arguing with a three-year-old.

Melissa and John had brought back some insights, along with the two pups when they dropped them off this morning.

“Scotty is three,” Melissa had told him and Stiles. “I’m sure of it. Watch him, because he will climb on any structure around. Also, he’s allergic to honey.”

“Isaac is younger, I think. But he feels safe, here,” John said. “He’s…well. We all know how teenage Isaac feels about father figures. This…” Derek politely looked away as the man coughed. “This is good for him.”

“We want to help,” Melissa said. “But we still have work, and the town…”

“Isn’t going to take to well to multiple cover stories, in conjunction with two of our most prolific teens missing.”

“So we will help when we can-“

“But you boys need to step up,” John finished.

Stiles stood next to Derek, gaping at the two adults. “Dad-“

“I know,” the sheriff said. “I’m sorry I doubted you, son. And…” he slides his gaze over to Derek. “I’m not sure what this is, but I know these two youngin’s feel safe here, and it’s obvious that there are-“ He waves his hand, because even though he knows about werewolves, and has for a long time, Derek isn’t sure the sheriff truly understands. “There’s pack dynamics or whatever you call them that are important. For all of you.”

“We’ll be fine, Sheriff,” Derek hears himself say, and somehow his hand always finds its way to Stiles’ lower back. “Thanks for taking them last night. The sleep helped a ton.”

“Call me,” John was saying to Stiles. Melissa had pressed several kisses to Scott’s cheek before leaving. “Love you, baby.”

“Love you mama papa love you bye!” Scott had yelled.

“Bye!” Isaac echoed, though he was already curled against Stiles.

So here they were, their numbers complete again, though they were no closer to knowing who or how two of their pack had reverted to toddlers.

“I need to talk to Boyd and Erica,” Derek tells Stiles, recalling what Deaton had said about witnesses. “We’ll put the pups down for a nap, and then we need figure out what the hell is going on.”

Stiles relishes the feeling of the hot spray pounding his body, washing away the last traces of fatigue.

Fuck, but kids were exhausting.

They were also hella cute, Stiles thinks to himself as he lathered up using Derek’s body wash. His dick twitches at the scent, but he resolutely ignores it, because “we have no time for that,” he scolds himself.

Fuck, but Derek smelled good.

Stiles turns the water all the way to cold.

When Stiles enters the living room ten minutes later, in fresh clothes and another cup of coffee in hand, Derek catches his scent immediately.

_Mine._

Wait, what?

Stiles plops down onto the couch with a satisfying exhale and takes a sip of coffee. Derek watches his lips part to down the liquid, and he has to actively control his breathing.

_Scent. Smell._

Derek freezes on the floor next to the pups, and squeezes his eyes shut as his wolf clamors to the surface.

_Smells like me. Mine._

Stiles is oblivious, smiling behind his mug as he looks over at the two little pups passed out together on the floor.

Derek pulls a blanket over the two of them, and when he quietly says his betas’ names, Jackson, Erica, Boyd, and even Lydia appear instantly. He crosses his arms, eyes razored in on Boyd and Erica. “Talk. Now.” He needs answers almost as much as he needs a distraction.

“We can’t,” Boyd says after a moment.

“We want to,” Erica says.

“But you can’t,” Derek repeats.

They nod.

Derek lifts an eyebrow.

“We want to tell you!” Erica cries. “But the witch said-“

“So it is a spell,” Stiles surmises. He mutters something quietly to Lydia and Jackson, who take off.

“What did the witch say?” Derek demands. “Tell me what the hell happened to my pack!”

“She said you have to find a- aarrrrrrg!” Erica hunches over herself, her face twisted in pain.

Stiles sets his coffee down and rushes to her side. “Erica?”

“Don’t,” Derek bites out. “Let her finish.”

“She can’t,” Boyd says.

“Yes she can!” Derek’s eyes flash red. “Erica! Tell me what happened!”

“Scott and Isaac can’t grow up until you- nggghh, until you’re …gahhh!” Erica’s jaw locks, and she cries out again.

“Derek!” Stiles cries. “Derek, stop!”

“Tell me!” Derek slams Boyd against the wall, one arm laid threateningly across his neck.

“Youneedtobepai---arnnngggg!” the howl of pain Boyd lets out is almost demonic.

“Derek! Enough!” Stiles yanks him backwards, and they both know Derek wouldn’t have moved if he hadn’t wanted to.

They all look at each other, the betas breathing heavily, Scott and Isaac stirring from where they lay on the floor.

“Derek, something’s wrong.”

“No shit, Stiles.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I mean…” he rushes off to the kitchen, coming back with a pad and paper. “Here,” he tells Erica, shoving the pen into her hand. “Try this.”

She does, and gets as far as _spell, magic, curse, lov-_ before her wrist bends back at an unnatural angle.

Isaac and Scott scrunch up their faces, and soon their stuttered breathing blows into full on crying.

Erica yelps in pain, and Stiles plucks the pen from her grasp. “It’s okay, Erica. It’s okay. Stop.”

Scott and Isaac are howling now.

“No!” Derek roars. “Don’t stop.” He yanks Boyd’s phone out of the beta’s pocket at thrusts it into his hands. As his fingers fly over the keys, Boyd’s knees buckle, and he screams in anguish.

“Derek!” Stiles rushes over to the pups, a hand on each of their backs in an effort to soothe their cries.

“They’ll heal! _Tell me!” _

Boyd’s gaze darts between Erica and their Alpha. “We can’t!”

“You can!” Derek argues. “Push through it!” His pups’ wailing is killing him, but Derek is trying to be strong, trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with his pack.

“No, we can’t!” Erica yells. “If we tell you, they die!”

The room falls silent, save for Scott and Isaac’s cries, and Stiles and Derek stare at Boyd. “What?” Derek asks.

Erica slumps to the ground, cradling her healing wrist. Boyd pulls her into his arms. “We can’t tell you what the witch said. We’re part of the curse.”

“You literally can’t tell us,” Stiles says, his eyes going wide.

“Or else the babies die,” Erica confirms. She tilts her chin up at Derek. “Ask me until you break every bone in my body…I won’t do it.”

Derek pushes out a breath, and his eyes meet Stiles.

“It’s okay,” Stiles says for him, looking at the injured betas. “It’s okay. You’re protecting pack. That’s…that matters more than anything.” He stands up, Isaac in his arms and Scott’s fists in his pant leg. “We’ll figure it out. Right, Der?”

Derek turns away, retracting his claws. His face is devoid of all expression when he turns back around. “Right.”

Boyd offers a hand to Erica, and together they stand in front of their Alpha.

Stiles nudges him.

“You did good,” Derek says gruffly. “We’ll figure another way.” He reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet. “Go to the mall. Get clothes, for the pups and for Stiles. I don’t care what it costs. Don’t come back without a month’s worth of supplies.”

Erica takes the card and Boyd takes his keys.

“Der.” Stiles shifts Isaac to his other hip. “What the hell.”

Derek sighs, and scoops Scott up before he can shred Stiles’ jeans. “I don’t know,” he says, pressing his forehead to Scott’s. “I don’t. Know.”

“Dewek? You kay?” Scott palms his cheeks.

Derek lets out a noise that’s half laugh, half groan. “Sure, Scotty. I’m okay.”

“Okay.” Scott claps his hands, and looks up at him. “Now we swing!”

Damned if Derek doesn’t swing the kid into the air, throwing him up and catching him low, the entire time Boyd and Erica are gone.

“I hate this,” Derek tells him later.

Stiles readjusts his legs where they’re spread around Scott. “Playing ball isn’t that bad, Der.”

Derek rolls his eyes, and reaches behind him to retrieve the ball that Scott rolled a little too far out of Isaac’s reach. “That’s not what I meant.”

Stiles looks away from the muscles bunching beneath Derek’s shirt as he stretches, and guides Scott’s hands to the ball. “Okay.”

Derek makes a frustrated noise, and Stiles has to fight a smile. Even sitting on the floor, Isaac between Derek’s legs and Scott between Stiles’ own, rolling a blown up beach ball that Lydia had brought for the toddlers, Derek still manages to scowl. “That’s something, Der. Seriously. You should get it checked out.”

Stiles ignores Derek’s frown, because obviously the Alpha has no idea what he’s talking about. Scott giggles when Isaac rolls himself over the ball, falling off of it and to the side. “I know you hate not being able to control everything, Sourwolf, but this is just gonna take more time to figure out.”

Derek picks up Isaac and plops him back onto his little diapered butt. “This doesn’t bother you? Seriously?”

Stiles shrugs, because he really hasn’t had much time to figure out what he thinks of this whole mess, but it’s hard to be bothered while he’s watching Scott and Isaac so untroubled, and watching Derek be a part of a family again. “I won’t say I’m not confused,” he says carefully. He helps Scott roll the ball across the room to Derek and Isaac when it’s their turn. “But, I don’t know. It’s kinda peaceful? I guess? Like, instead of wondering what creature is gonna claw my guts out next, I’m worried about whether or not Scott and Isaac are clean and fed. Seems like an okay trade off, if you ask me.”

Derek misses the ball when it rolls their way. “You’re not lying.”

Stiles shrugs. “It’s not what I would have chosen, looking out for two kids at the age of nineteen. But it’s been a long time since…”

“Since what?”

Stiles bites his lip. “Since everyone has been happy.” He risks a look at Derek, and he’s not sure what to do with the softness he sees.

He’s saved from having to figure it out when Lydia, Jackson, Boyd, and Erica burst through the door, their arms laden with bags.

Stiles sucks in a breath at the way Derek stands and gathers Isaac in his arms in one smooth motion.

“Sty-wes?” Scott cranes his head to look back at him.

“Yeah, bud,” Stiles says absently, watching as Derek perches Isaac on his hip and helps him dig through the bags.

“Sty-wes okay?”

Stiles listens to the coos and giggles around him, and then looks down at Scott and smiles. “Yeah, Scotty. Stiles is okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of setup here, and then I promise much more pup fluff and toddler speak to come!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're all getting spoiled by this new chapter every night business, but even amidst work and other obligations, I just can't stay away from this little family

“No no no no no-“

“Oh my Godddd,” Stiles says, looking down at Scott. “Seriously, little dude, I am this close to-“

“No!” Scott wails.

Stiles drops his head backwards, muttering to the heavens before looking back at Scott. “Scotty, Stiles has to work now, okay? You think all your toys and food and shi…stuff just materializes out of thin air? I’ve got to write, puppy breath.”

Scott’s eyes well up, and he shakes his head. “No Sty-wes no play wif Scott.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “Buddy, I’d love to play with you, you know that. But I need to work right now, okay?”

Scott rubs his eyes and sucks in stuttered breaths. “Okay,” he says, even though it clearly isn’t.

Stiles silently curses Derek, who chose this morning to take only Isaac with him while he ran errands. “Okay. Tell you what, how about you sit next to me and show me what you can build with the LEGOs that Uncle Jackson bought you?”

Scott’s eyes light up. “Yeah! Yay!”

“Yay!” Stiles echoes, with accompanying jazz hands. He’s pretty sure Scott won’t try to swallow any tiny plastic pieces. He pulls out his laptop and starts uploading the notes he and Lydia had translated earlier that week. 

Ever since he’d realized that he’d somehow become part of Derek Hale’s pack – and no, that idea didn’t make his stomach flutter, thank you very much- Stiles had saved his notes on every single supernatural situation that Derek or the other wolves had ever had him research. Between himself and Lydia, there hadn’t been much they couldn’t translate, decipher, or figure out.

Stiles had started a blog, an outlet for fun at first, to lend some normalcy to the fact that he was now smack ass in the middle of a freaking werewolf pack, and after awhile, it had really taken off. Mostly by paranormal fanatics at first, he figured, but he thinks that there are others like him who were desperate for some answers from a reliable source.

He’d done some reading, monetized the blog, expanded it into translations and lore in addition to first-hand accounts, and well.

The thing made more in two years than it would have cost Stiles to go to a four-year college. Money his dad really didn’t have, and truth be told, the last thing Stiles had wanted to do after graduation was sit still on his butt for four more years of classes.

Danny had taught him a ton about coding and web development, Derek had one day out of the blue upgraded his Wi-fi and installed a server, and Stiles now found himself a steady income stream from blogging about his real life experiences that were just too damn weird to be true.

Except, you know. They weren’t.

One hour later, he’d published one article and drafted another, as well as updated links and replied to some fan emails.

“Hey Scotty, wanna show me…” he trailed off when he saw Scott asleep next to him on the floor, his head pillowed on the hoodie Stiles had tossed aside halfway into his work frenzy.

He looked so comfy that Stiles didn’t think twice about cuddling the kid and curling up behind him, tucking Scott safely against his chest, Stiles’ head pillowed on his own arm.

Derek had just reached the top of the apartment steps when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He shifted a babbling Isaac to his other hip and answered his phone. “Hello.”

“My favorite nephew. Tell me, how is the new Alpha settling in?”

He instinctively looks around, though he can’t smell anything off. “Peter.”

“All this time, and you still don’t sound happy to see me,” Peter pouts.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Just because you’ve stopped causing chaos and destruction everywhere you go doesn’t mean you make me happy.”

“Fair enough. But what I have to tell you _really_ won’t make you happy.”

His instincts go on high alert. “What is it?”

“I’m afraid that the favor I called in for you, to get you that lovely apartment, you’re welcome, by the way, is about to expire.”

Derek bumps Isaac higher on his hip, and halts unlocking his apartment door. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, dear nephew, that the long-term lease turns out to not be so long-term. The owner had a change of plans, and he would like to return home.”

“Return home,” Derek says blankly.

“To the loft you’re currently raising your pack in, yes. By the way, did I hear correctly that two of your rag tag puppies aren’t exactly themselves these days?”

“When.”

“I don’t know, Derek, you tell me when it happened.”

“When are the owners coming back,” Derek says through gritted teeth.

“Ah, that would be the twentieth.”

“Of?”

“October.”

“That’s next week.”

“It is,” Peter agrees.

“You’re telling me I have to find my pack somewhere new to live in the next seven days?”

“I assure you, Derek, I called as soon as I heard. Believe it or not, I really do want to help.”

“Right,” Derek says, ducking his head where Isaac has started to play with his hair. “Thanks. Or you know. Not.”

“Derek-“

Derek hangs up before Peter can finish.

“Dewek mad?” Isaac asks when they walk through the door, Derek’s arms full of grocery bags and his pup.

“No, I’m not mad.” He is, but he sees no reason for Isaac to worry about it.

“Sti-ewes hewp.”

Derek pauses halfway to lowering all the bags onto the kitchen table. “What?”

Isaac squirms in his arms, only settling when Derek swings him around to face him, Isaac’s legs wrapped around Derek’s waist with Derek’s hands underneath his butt. “When Dewek mad, Sti-ewes hewp. When Sti-ewes ‘fraid, Dewek hewp.”

Derek blinks. _Hewp?_

Isaac starts to play with his hair again, rearranging the tufts of hair near Derek’s forehead. “Dewek need hewp?”

It suddenly dawns on him what Isaac is saying.

Oh, for…“No, Derek does not need help, thank you very much. You shush, pup.”

“You shush!” Isaac repeats, giggling. “You shush pup!”

Derek lets go of the bags and wraps his hands beneath Isaac’s armpits. He nuzzles Isaac’s belly. “You are something else, you know that?”

“You somfing else! You Dewek.” Isaac throws his arms around Derek’s neck.

Derek responds immediately, cuddling the baby close and breathing in his scent, while marking his pup with his own. “Yep, I’m Derek.”

Isaac fists his little hands in Derek’s hair. “You Sti-ewes hewp.”

Derek smiles into the boy’s neck. “Yeah. Let’s go find Stiles to help.”

When he finds Stiles, the tightness in his throat from Isaac’s affection doesn’t ease. If anything, looking down at Stiles sleeping so protectively near little Scott has Derek’s chest constricting even more.

“Scotty Sti-ewes sweepin’,” Isaac whispers.

Derek kneels down near Stiles’ shoulders, Isaac still on his hip. He hates to wake him up, but it’s nearing dinner time, and his wolf is howling at the thought of hungry puppies and a hungry mate.

_Hold the fuck up, what?_

Sleep. He needed food, then sleep. Then he’d be able to think clearly, and figure out a solution to their living situation, and rein in control over his wolf and the clearly sleep-deprived thoughts it was having.

Derek falters, but manages to set Isaac down in a small space between Stiles’ waist and Scott’s legs. He runs a gentle hand over Stiles’ hair, letting himself indulge in just how much he likes it a little long like this. “Stiles.”

“Mmmm.” Stiles leans into the touch, but his eyes stay closed.

Derek’s mouth curves. “Stiles. Wake up.”

“Sti-ewes!” Isaac shoves his face against Stiles’ before Derek can stop him.

“Wha!”

“Sorry,” Derek murmurs, shushing Isaac, who is quickly molding himself between a sleepy Stiles and a still sleeping Scott. “If you can keep Isaac in here with you, I’ll make dinner.”

It’s a talent, really, the way Stiles can scoff at him while he’s half asleep. “You? What, you gonna steal my phone and order off Door Dash?”

“I can cook,” Derek says petulantly. “I can heat up, anyway. I got some take and bake pizzas. And yes, I got veggies. Carrots and celery. I’ll chop them, if you can shut up the sass for thirty minutes and let me provide for you.”

Stiles snickers, his eyes not quite open even though he’s already curling an arm around Isaac’s middle and running the other hand over Scott’s hair. “Wolf. Provide. Heh.”

Derek smiles along with him, and he catches himself before leaning over to drop a kiss to Stiles perfectly lax lips. “Just watch the pups.”

“Whatever you say, Alpha.” Stiles curls around the two boys, tucking his face into Isaac’s hair – the little guy is already asleep- and Derek knows Stiles probably has no idea what he’s saying, but tell that to his dick, who perked right up at Stiles using his Alpha title.

“Fuck,” Derek whispers.

Just. _Fuck._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorrrrrrrry sorry sorry I had company for a week and then allergies knocked me on my ass and anyway here's a longer chapter to hopefully make up for the delay!

“Cookie crisp!”

“No, no cookie crisp.”

“Yes! Want cookies.”

“Cookies don’t belong in cereal,” Stiles says, even though they so do. Ugh, being a responsible parent sucked.

Responsible. Parent. How the hell did he become a parent, however temporary, at nineteen? “How about we split the difference and get Lucky Charms?”

Scott sends his lips forward in an adorable pout. “Cookies.”

“Lucky Charms it is,” Stiles declares, plucking two boxes off the shelves.

“Sti-ewes you food!”

Stiles leans down and nuzzles Isaac. The pup is perched in the bench seat of the grocery cart, facing Stiles. “Stiles is getting food, pup. Stiles isn’t food.”

Isaac bursts into giggles. “Sti-ewes food!”

“You think four gallons is enough?” Jackson asks from behind him. He and Lydia are pushing the cart that is actually holding groceries, while Stiles totes around dry goods, Isaac, and Scott, who’s sitting in the main part of the cart.

“Yeah, for now. If we need more milk, I’ll have Derek pick some up tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget red sauce,” Lydia pipes in. “You promised us spaghetti and meatballs. If I’m going to eat carbs, they need to be worth it.”

“Sauce? Like, from a jar?” Stiles stares at her, offended. “Jackson, go to produce and grab a dozen Roma tomatoes. Fresh basil, too, if they have it.”

Lydia looks at him like he just saved the town from Godzilla, and Jackson rolls his eyes but goes to do as Stiles asked.

Stiles pushes the two boys throughout the store, tossing various groceries into the cart as he goes. “Don’t tell Derek how much fun it is to spend his money, okay?” he asks Isaac. He throws in all the ingredients for homemade spaghetti, some protein bars, and the coffee that Derek likes. “Okay, now we just need…ah!” Stiles grabs a block of Parmesan from the cheese display. “Perfect.”

“Perfect!” Echoes Scott. He holds out his hands and Stiles lets him hold the cheese.

When they get to the checkout, Stiles restrains himself from wincing at the total, but really, feeding werewolves is never cheap, even when two of them are pint-sized.

“Just get whatever we need, Stiles,” Derek had told him. “It doesn’t matter.”

And really, wasn’t it just his luck that he landed someone totally loaded?

_Hold up,_ his mind interrupts. Landed? More like ‘forced together via cursed werebabies’.

Stiles isn’t stupid. He knows he and Derek would never be spending this much time together if it weren’t for Scott and Isaac somehow being turned into helpless- yet adorable- little toddlers.

“Cash or credit?”

Jackson is wrestling a reluctant Scott out of the cart while Lydia rearranges the items the hapless clerk had piled into bags. “Credit,” Stiles says, his voice perkier than he feels.

Sliding Derek’s card feels pretty damn nice, though, so he enjoys the fantasy while he can, lifting Isaac up and into his arms while the receipt prints out, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Seven days,” Stiles repeats when Derek tells him the news.

“A little less than, actually,” Derek responds. He shoots out an arm to catch the meatball Scott is about to dump onto the floor. He pops it into his own mouth. “These are amazing, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Stiles looks distracted, he had ever since returning from the store, but Derek is too busy trying to salvage the rest of Scott’s food to wonder why.

“Where are we gonna go?” Erica downs her second glass of red wine, and really, werewolves can’t get drunk off of normal alcohol, and Derek has a million other more pressing things to worry about, so he can’t find it in himself to care that she’s pilfering his stash.

“I don’t know,” he snaps, because he really, really doesn’t. “I’ll figure something out.”

“In seven days?” It’s a gift, really, how Lydia can come across as someone who has the rank to lecture him.

“Isaac, baby, little bites, okay?” Stiles tugs a long loop of spaghetti out of Isaac’s mouth. He reaches over and cuts the tiny portion of sauce covered noodles on Isaac’s plate into even smaller sections, not missing a beat as Isaac smashes his spit-covered hand into the pile to grab some more food. He and Scott babble idly to each other while the rest of the dinner conversation swirls around them.

“My parents have a cabin,” Jackson offers tentatively.

“Good for them.” Derek stabs two more meatballs to put on his plate.

“I meant maybe we could use it, dum-“

Derek lifts a brow in Jackson’s direction.

“Dum-mmmmp another portion onto my plate, please, babe,” Jackson recovers, nudging Lydia.

“Dump yourself,” she replies.

Jackson looks down, then glances furtively around the table before looking back at Derek. “It’s about an hour out of town.” He tells him the name of the area. “It’s four bedrooms, it’s on a lake, and it has a ton of land. There are only about six other cabins in the area, but none are terribly close.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were actually trying to be helpful.” Derek studies Jackson, senses the nervous but even heartbeat. “Your parents won’t care if a werewolf pack complete with two toddlers crashes their cabin…for an unknown period of time?”

Jackson shrugs. “They never use it. We have like, four vacation homes. They won’t even notice. They’ll just think I’m still at community college.”

Derek doesn’t miss the unspoken words at the end. They wouldn’t notice their home being used, and they likely wouldn’t notice their son being gone, either. He glances at Stiles, who shrugs. “As long as it’s got decent internet, I can work from anywhere.”

“It does,” Jackson says. “The cabin is modernized; it’s the setting that’s rustic.”

Stiles nudges him. “What do you think?”

Derek sets down his fork and looks around the table. Boyd has hauled Scott into his lap, since the little boy decided other peoples’ food tastes better than his. Isaac is perched on Stiles’ thighs, playing with Erica’s hair with spaghetti-caked hands. Lydia is looking at him expectantly, while Jackson has an impatient, yet slightly hesitant, look on his face.

“I think,” Derek says, reaching over Stiles to wipe Isaac’s hands with his napkin, “we’re about to be a wolf pack who actually lives in the woods.”

“Wild,” Erica says, grinning.

“I’m going to need new boots,” Lydia says.

“I’m not taking you shopping. Last time I did that, I lost an entire goddamn day.”

“Jackson! How else do you think I-“

As the betas chatter amongst themselves, Stiles leans over to Derek. “What happens when we’ve worn out our welcome in a borrowed cabin?”

Warmth flows through Derek at the words ‘we’ and ‘our’, his wolf preening at the idea. He barely resists the urge to take Stiles’ hands in his. “Then we figure it out.”

When they break the news two days later, Stiles’ dad and Scott’s mom weren’t exactly thrilled at the idea of the two of them moving farther away.

“You’re pretty far removed from anyone or anything if something goes wrong, son,” the sheriff says.

“If? Have you met this group? I think you mean when, Dad.”

Stiles grunts when Derek nudges him in the arm. “Not helping,” Derek growls.

“Right.” It’s also not helping how damn close Derek is sitting, their sides pressed together where they sit on the couch. Stiles doesn’t point this out.

“We still want to be able to visit,” Melissa says. She’s on the floor with the boys, playing pattycake with Isaac while Scott runs in circles around them.

“Absolutely,” Derek affirms before Stiles can speak. “Just let us know beforehand. I don’t want anyone walking into anything dangerous.”

“Now you’re the one who isn’t helping your case,” John mutters, pacing the room. He rubs a hand down his face. “Look, if you need a place to live, why not crash here?”

“Dad.” Stiles stares at his father like he’s lost his mind. “You really want all of us, plus an energetic toddler, plus a werebaby-“

“Isaac is not a werebaby,” Derek interrupts.

“-A _werebaby,_” Stiles repeats, “inside your home? Constantly? Underfoot?”

“Were!” Isaac runs over to Stiles and puts his hands atop Stiles’ knees. “Were! Rawr!”

John winces. “I guess I was thinking it would just be you and Derek and the kids.”

Stiles hauls Isaac into his arms and nuzzles his tummy before setting him back down to play. “Wow, Dad. Harsh.”

“We’re stronger together, Sheriff,” Derek tells him. “The pack. We are much better equipped to handle threats if we face them together. Plus, I’m afraid what it might do to Scott and Isaac to be separated from half their pack for too long.”

“They seemed to do fine with us,” Melissa points out. “Away from all of you.”

“That was one night,” Stiles says. “And I mean, you two are kinda pack. Pack similar? Pack adjacent? Is that a thing?” he asks Derek.

“You’re pack, in that you have our protection and we’ve come to trust that we have yours,” Derek nods. “But with all due respect, sir, when it comes to deciding what’s best for my pack, the choice lies with me. And with a witch or a sorcerer or whatever the hell is running around de-aging my pups, I’m not about to split us up. We came here as a courtesy so you would be informed, but we aren’t asking permission.”

Stiles’ mouth drops at Derek’s mini-speech, because holy hell his conviction was hotter than hellfire. _I’m included in that, _Stiles thinks. _Me. Fragile human. I’m pack. _

_Derek’s pack._ “Dad,” Stiles says, when his mouth is no longer too dry to speak. Seriously, he’d give his substantial life savings to hear Derek go all Alpha serious like that again. He clears his throat, tries to sound normal. “We’ll be fine. It’s only an hour away, hour fifteen tops. We aren’t abandoning Beacon Hills. We just need somewhere to lay low while we figure out how to handle what’s going on.”

His dad lets out a long sigh. “Ted Swanson.”

“Um.” Stiles frowns. “Come again?”

“Go to the Ford dealership off of Third. Ask for Ted Swanson. I helped him out a few years back; he owes me a favor. I don’t have to like you moving out to a cabin, but you’re sure as shit not gonna do it in that beat-up Jeep. And I can’t imagine Derek’s Camaro is very child-friendly.” He sinks down onto the floor and runs a hand over Isaac’s curls. Melissa smiles softly and lays a hand on his dad’s arm. “He’ll set you up, get you a deal.”

“That’s…” Derek falters, and it’s freaking adorable to see the Alpha lose control, if only for a second. “That’s very generous. Thank you.’

Stiles wonders what else would make Derek lose control, what else might have him fumbling, stuttering, moaning-

“Stiles!”

He startles. “Huh?”

His dad shakes his head, then looks at him fondly. “I said, I hear the Expeditions can seat eight people."

Stiles’ mouth drops open. “Holy hell, Dad, those are like, fifty grand. I make good money from my blog, but that’s-“

“Like I said, he’ll get you a deal,” his dad interrupts. He looks straight at Derek. “And we all know Derek can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be, right, son?”

Derek nods, while Stiles is still gaping. He even thinks he sees the corner of Derek’s mouth lift. “Yes, sir.”

“De-wek!” Isaac throws himself against Derek’s leg, shoving his head against the bend of Derek’s knee for a moment before running back to Melissa.

His dad continues. “And let him to the talking, Stiles, for the love of God, son, please let Derek do the talking.”

“Dad, jeez, okay. Why even let me go, if you two are gonna be all Alpha male about it?” Stiles grumbles.

“Because you’re the Stilinski favor cred.” His dad’s eyes are sparkling with mirth, and Stiles wonders when the hell he fell into the Twilight zone. Derek laughs, like honest to God laughs, and Stiles thinks his heart might be about to burst.

It’s weird, too weird, even for Stiles Stilinski, King of All Weirdness. “Okay, you know what? No. This is odd. This is like, double Addams family odd. Give me the babies. I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back until you bring back the version of Sheriff And Derek Who Do Not Get Along.”

“Absolutely not,” Melissa says. “These precious littles are staying with us while you two go spend money.” She bounces Isaac in her lap and runs a hand through Scott’s hair where his head is resting on her leg.

“Don’t come back until we’ve had time to take them for ice cream,” his dad tells them.

“What. Is. Happening.” Derek tugs on his arm, and he’s still smiling, and Stiles sucks in a breath because Derek is fucking _beautiful_ when he smiles.

“Come on, _dear,” _Derek says, and no, do not be playful, that is not helping Stiles’ feelings for the man one bit. “Let’s go buy us a car.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some toddler speak fluff coming up next chapter :D


	6. Chapter 6

Four days. Four days of packing, of shopping for supplies, of constantly being around Stiles, his scent, his energy, his damn doe eyes…

Derek shuts the tailgate of their brand new Expedition (seriously, what the hell had he been thinking, bantering with Stiles’ father and practically flirting with the kid in front of Melissa that day?) and barely resists the urge to bang his head against it. It wasn’t going to get any better, heading up to a cabin with Stiles, sharing a house with Stiles, _playing_ house with Stiles.

It had been what, three, four years since they first met? Derek really should have his feelings under control by now.

On that note, when the hell had he gone from being a lone beta living in a burnt-out shell of a house, to being an Alpha with a pack, a family, two of whom were pups at the moment, for shits sake, and a mate-

Derek lets out a growl and opens the tailgate just so he has an excuse to slam it shut again. _Not my goddamn mate. _

_Stiles. Mate. Mine. _

He’s about to start an argument with himself over all the reasons that no, Stiles isn’t his, no, he doesn’t deserve that, he needs to lock it up, get it together, be in control of-

“Dewek!”

As soon as he had it, the hold on his control snapped like a snipped cable wire. Isaac’s tiny voice and those little legs running towards him broke him every time.

_You’re allowed to smile, Derek, _Melissa had told him the day they’d bought the car, when they’d gone back to pick up the kids. _It’s okay to be happy._ _You take care of my boys, got it? _

He had gotten the feeling that she hadn’t just been talking about the little ones.

“Hey, pup.” Derek crouched down next to Isaac. “What are you so excited about?”

“We going fowest! Me an’ you an’ Sti-ewes and Wyd-dee an’ Jax-en and Scotty an’ Ewh-ica an’ Boy an’ you an’ me!”

Derek’s eyes went wide. “Wow, that’s a lot of people!”

Isaac nods. “Wot of people,” he says seriously.

“Isaac!” Stiles comes running out of the apartment, Scott in his arms. “Oh my God, baby, don’t ever run away from me again! I thought he was right next to me, Der, I didn’t know-“

“It’s fine, Stiles. He’s fine.” Derek picks up Isaac and sets him on his hip. “Aren’t you, pup?”

“I fine.”

“Holy…insert expletives here. He was right freaking next to me, and then he wasn’t, and now I see he only wanted to find your werewolf ass, and-“

“Stiles. Breathe.” Derek clamps a hand onto the back of Stiles’ neck. A fissure of heat explodes within his chest when he sees and feels Stiles relax at the touch.

“Beethe.” Isaac leans over from his perch on Derek’s hip and claps his hands to Stiles’ cheeks. “Sti-ewes.”

‘You’re gonna kill me, pup.” Stiles nuzzles Isaac’s hands, pressing a kiss to each palm.

“Sty-wes carry my cwoves?” Scott asks.

“Yeah, Scotty, we’ve got your clothes. If anything gets left behind, let’s all agree that it’s Derek’s fault, okay?” Stiles stealthily evades Derek’s grip, and Derek pretends he isn’t disappointed.

“Yay!” Isaac cheers. “Dewek!”

“Exactly.” Stiles catches Derek’s eye. “We all set?”

“Once Erica gets here, yeah, we’re all set.” Erica and Lydia were planning to follow the Expedition to the cabin, Derek figuring it was best to have more than one car at their disposal. “Jackson and Boyd left a little while ago, so they can get the cabin open and ready.” _And check for threats._

“Awesome.” Stiles buckles Scott into one of the car seats, leaving the door open until Erica pulls up. The air is crisp and cool, but the sun is warm, so Derek straps Isaac in on the other side and leaves his door open as well.

“Wot of people, Sti-ewes,” Isaac says. Stiles nods and agrees, even though Derek can see he’s not quite sure what that means. “Wight, Dewek?”

“That’s right, pup.” Derek shuts their doors when he sees Erica’s little red Toyota pull up behind their Ford. He and Stiles get in the front. “Ready?” he asks, turning the key into the ignition.

“No!” Scott shouts, but he’s grinning and nodding.

“Dewek!” Isaac cheers, and Derek smiles behind his aviators.

“I’m gonna say that means yes,” Stiles says, flipping down his own sunglasses. “Onward, Jeeves.”

“I’m the butler now?”

Stiles’ grin does something funny to Derek’s stomach, so he focuses on the road instead.

“Holy frijoles, Jackson. All that bullying you did? It’s forgiven if you let me live here forever.” Stiles cranes his neck and looks around the great room- he’s heard the term before, but now, with these twelve-foot ceilings and open concept living areas connected to a huge ass kitchen, he feels like he’s finally seeing one- taking in the plush furniture, polished hardwood, and luxurious fireplace. “For. Ever.” He turns slightly. “Derek, you and the kids can visit occasionally.”

“Generous.” Derek sets down his and Stiles’ bags. Scott’s hand is twisted in the denim of Derek’s jeans, and Stiles internally amends his offer. _Fuck it. You can live with me fulltime. You and me and our pups and-_

Insert record scratch. Because no. This is temporary. It’s temporary, it’s not real, it’s not his new life, it’s not at all sexy the way Derek picks Scott up in one arm and nuzzle his neck to scent him, it’s-

“Master suite is ours,” Lydia says, breezing past them in the entryway.

Boyd hides a laugh and looks at Derek, as if expecting the Alpha to contradict her.

Derek shrugs. “It’s Jackson’s territory.” He heads upstairs immediately, no doubt to claim the next best room. Stiles figures he’ll get last choice, seeing as how Boyd and Erica are following right behind.

“What do you think, pup?” He sets Isaac down and takes his hand. “Which room should we get? I mean, unless you’d rather be with Derek. Wait…” He does the math in his head.

Jackson said four bedrooms. Lydia and Jackson in the master, Derek in another, Boyd and Lydia in the next. That left Stiles and the two pups. Would he take Scott while Derek took Isaac? Stiles was Isaac’s hero during the day, but the cub seemed to prefer Derek at night.

Maybe the pups could have the other room and Stiles would just sleep on the couch. It looks super comfy, plush cushions and heavy blankets thrown across the top. Plenty of pillows, and big enough that it could easily fit him twice over. Or maybe the two of them would-

“Stiles!”

“Yo.” Derek’s voice calling to him from upstairs breaks him from his reverie. Isaac was already down on all fours, making his way up the hardwood steps, his little diapered butt sticking up in the air.

He follows Isaac up, one hand outstretched in case the pup were to stumble. When they reach the top, Isaac follows him to the second bedroom, where Derek is standing in the middle of the room. “You think the pups can share?”

“Uh.” Stiles glances at the double bed. “I don’t think a two-year-old should sleep in a bed that high with only a three-year-old as company.”

Derek frowns. “That’s what I was thinking.”

“How did we not think of getting a crib?”

“Because we’ve been spoiling them by letting them sleep in our beds?”

Stiles snaps his fingers. “Oh yeah. Right.”

Derek shuffles a boot back and forth across the throw rug. “I guess for now, you take Scotty and I’ll take Isaac.”

_Nailed it, _Stiles thinks.

“Then tomorrow, we will get a crib, well, two cribs…”

Stiles nods along. Yep, that’s the smart thing.

“…and then they can sleep in here, and you’ll bunk next door with me.”

“Sounds good,” Stiles says, crouching down to hoist Isaac up onto the bed. He almost falls forward, once he realizes what Derek just said. “Wait, what?”

“You’ll bunk next door with me,” Derek says, lifting Scott up to join Isaac. “We can’t exactly keep sleeping with them. Aren’t they supposed to self-soothe, or something?”

“I…” Stiles moves his mouth, but no more words form.

“Derek! Stiles! Lyds and I are gonna go into town to get more groceries!” Jackson’s voice carries up the stairs.

“You guys okay with the kiddos for awhile?” Erica pops her head into the room. “Boyd and I want to go for a run.”

Stiles doesn’t answer, just keeps moving his mouth and throat in hopes that something coherent will come out.

“Fine,” Derek says. “But Boyd and Jackson are on first watch tonight, while you and Lydia clean up from whatever Stiles cooks. He hasn’t slept a full night through since his dad and Melissa took the kids that weekend.”

“Excuse me, I am still here, you know.” Stiles sits on the bed, patting Isaac’s butt when the pup throws himself face down across Stiles’ lap. “Sti-ewes! We pway?”

“No probs,” Erica says to Derek, like Stiles never spoke.

“Pwobs,” Scott echoes.

“I’ll take over around 3 am,” Derek continues.

Erica nods, then winks at Scott. “Bye, cutie.”

“Bye!” Scott shouts after her.

“Sti-ewes!”

Stiles glances down into sweet little cherub eyes. “What, baby?”

Isaac pushes himself up into a sitting position. “We fowest wike wolf.”

“Ha!” Stiles tickles him. “This is only temporary, pup. We won’t live in the forest forever.”

“Isaac wolf an’ Scotty wolf an’ Dewek rawr!”

Stiles nods sagely. “Derek is scary, huh?” Because it’s terrifying, thinking about sharing a room with Derek.

Sharing a bed with Derek. Sharing the covers, pillows side by side and nighttime silence the only thing between them. Sharing breath, sharing-

“Rawr!” Isaac cheers, grinning. He falls into a fit of giggles when Scott joins in.

“I can take watch while we’re here, too,” Stiles rushes out.

Derek rolls Scott back onto his back, and lifts an eyebrow. “Okay, but you won’t.”

“I totally will!”

“Sorry, did that sound like a suggestion? You will not. You’re going to stay inside and get some sleep.”

_Stay inside and torture myself being pressed up close to you, you mean. _“Derek. I can pull my weight.”

Derek’s mouth drops open. “You think constantly watching two pups, being the only one besides Boyd who can cook, and keeping me sane isn’t pulling your weight? Not to mention the other hundred things you do to keep our pack glued together.”

It was Stiles’ turn to stare in disbelief. “Keep you sane?”

“Dewek you hold me! We swing!”

Derek scoops both Scott and Isaac into his arms. “Never mind,” he tells Stiles. He’s already out of the room and halfway down the stairs when he calls out, “You may as well keep your jacket on. I think we need to let these pups run off some energy outside.”

Stiles flails his arms wide in a ‘what the hell just happened’ gesture, despite the fact that no one is around to see it.

“Get a grip, Stilinski,” he mutters to himself as he heads back downstairs. “You know the whole let’s ignore a problem until it goes away thing? That’s what we’re gonna do.” Ignore the silly crush he has (okay, he’s _had_ since he was like sixteen, but it sort of faded into the background as he gave up on the impossible and dated around a bit, even though no one seemed quite right) and go with the flow. Easy breezy Stiles, going with the flow.

Because this isn’t Derek, this isn’t him, this isn’t him and Derek. This is just a weird situation, in which they’re adapting as best they can. For all his gruffness, Derek isn’t cold. Of course he’s going to be sweet to two tiny pups. He had lots of nieces and nephews, right? What did Stiles expect, that he’d be as broody and short with baby Isaac and mini-Scott as he was with most adults?

Except, Stiles has to admit, Derek really hadn’t been like that lately. He’s started to say please more, slam people (read: Stiles) into walls less…

A little voice yells out, “Sty-wes! You pway wif Scott?”

Stiles shakes his head and jogs the rest of the way downstairs, crossing the living room to the sliding door on the opposite side. Scott has his goofy face pressed up against the glass, and he grins when he sees Stiles come closer. “We gonna run!”

Stiles glances over to Derek, whose cheeks have turned adorably pink, and who has Isaac perched on his shoulders. When he looks back down at Scott, his mini best friend has an arm outstretched, hand open like there’s no doubt in his mind that Stiles will take it.

So he does, and even though Derek’s smile already has him out of breath, he joins his wolves and runs.


	7. Chapter 7

It was odd at first, sharing a bed with his former best friend. Not that Stiles and Scott hadn’t grown up sharing beds during sleepovers. On more than one occasion, they’d even fallen asleep on the same couch.

But it was different now. Stiles curled himself around Scott, a fierce need to _protect, keep safe, protect_ coursing through his entire being.

Is this how parents, how Alphas, felt all the time? Stiles felt like he almost couldn’t handle it; yet at the same time, it made him feel like the most important person in the world.

It was a bit of a relief, however, when the two cribs arrived the next day (thank you, Amex and one day delivery). Boyd and Derek spent the afternoon assembling the cribs while Stiles relaxed on the couch during a rare, much needed break.

“Do you want counter spells listed under sorcery, or under solutions?” Lydia’s voice floated into his ears.

“Hmm. Maybe under solutions, with a link on the sorcery page?” Stiles let the book he was reading fall onto his chest as he glanced her way. “Does that work?”

“It does,” she replies, fingers already flying across the keys of her laptop. She was propped up against the opposite end of the couch, Stiles’ legs between her and the sofa back. Isaac and Scott were asleep together in the humongous easy chair to their left, a knitted throw tossed over them.

Lydia Martin was the only being on earth Stiles trusted with his blog. She’d convinced him six months ago that it had gotten too large for him to handle himself, and now with the pups, and pack business, he was more grateful than ever to have her help.

Stiles picks up his book again, smirking as a muffled curse made its way down the stairs. “Derek Hale building a crib. If I weren’t so freaking comfy, I’d pay money to go up and see that.”

“I can hear you, Stiles!” Derek yells down.

“Freak,” Stiles replies at normal volume, but he’s smiling.

“Oh, you have got it bad,” Lydia says as she continues to type.

It takes two full minutes for Stiles to realize she’s referring to him. “What?” he squawks, coming halfway off the couch.

She puts a finger to her lips, her eyes twinkling. He sputters, but doesn’t ask her to expand, because in no universe does he need Derek to know just how right she is.

A small whimper from the recliner turns into full on crying, and Stiles jumps off the couch to go soothe Isaac. “Shh, hey there baby boy, it’s okay. Not quite ready to wake up yet?”

Isaac’s face is scrunched up, fat tears rolling down his chubby baby cheeks. “Shh, shh.” Stiles holds him close to his chest, glancing at Scott to make sure the other pup hasn’t woken up from the noise. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Let’s just take a little walk, huh?” Stiles shoots Lydia a grateful look when she tosses him the blanket that had been covering their legs. He wraps it around himself and Isaac and walks out the sliding glass door off the kitchen.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” He asks, bouncing his knees to create a gentle sway. “Just feeling grumpy?”

Isaac’s cries are a little quieter now, soft little whimpers that tug at Stiles’ heart. “Oh, pup, I know. Life’s hard sometimes, huh? Especially when all you wanna do is sleep.” He presses a kiss to Isaac’s curls, walking him up and down the length of the porch. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. Boyd and your Alpha are working on a brand new crib, just for you! So we’re gonna order some yummy pizza tonight, because Stiles is too tired to cook, and you’re gonna stuff yourself full of cheesy goodness before getting to curl up in brand new comfy sheets. Doesn’t that sound like just the best?”

Isaac stares at Stiles’ mouth as he talks, and his cries are spaced much further apart now, so Stiles keeps going. “Although you should probably have a bath in between there at some point. Don’t wanna be a smelly little pup, do you?” Stiles nuzzles Isaac’s neck, inhaling nothing but soft skin and baby sweetness. “Maybe I’ll make Derek do that. Heh. Can you imagine that? Big Bad Wolf all covered in bubbles?”

“Hilarious.”

Stiles whirls around to find Derek standing just outside the door, sliding it closed behind him. “Isaac thinks so,” Stiles says. The corners of Derek’s mouth are curling, and Stiles finds it hard to look anywhere else.

“I just built two cribs. I’m not doing bath duty.” Derek crosses the back porch to come stand right next to them. He runs a hand over Isaac’s hair. “You done making noise, pup?”

Isaac tucks his head against Stiles’ chest, but his eyes are on Derek. “Dewek Sti-ewes.”

Stiles pats his back. “Scott?” he asks Derek.

“Still sleeping.” Derek’s eyes are glued to where Isaac is cuddled against Stiles’ chest, calm now and wrapped up in the blanket.

“I guess we can, ah, go in now. I was just trying to make sure he didn’t wake Scott.” Stiles tries not to fidget too much under Derek’s gaze, his swaying with Isaac a perfect cover to hide his nerves.

“No Sti-ewes stay.” Isaac’s fist curls into Stiles’ hoodie.

“I’ll stay with you, baby, I just meant we don’t have to stay outside.”

“No Sti-ewes stay out’ide!”

Stiles blinks down into Isaac’s wet face. “You wanna stay out here?”

Isaac nods. “Mm hmmmp.”

Stiles debates for a minute, because the couch was warm, and it was comfy. But Isaac is clearly enjoying the fresh air and freedom of the outside, so he can't find it in himself to say no.

Derek spins around to head back inside while Stiles continues to pace. “Traitor,” he mumbles under his breath. He sets Isaac on the railing, his arms still curled around him but letting the rail take some of the weight off, and drops his head heavily against Isaac’s tummy.

Seconds later he hears the door open again. “Come here,” Derek says gruffly.

Stiles turns, his eyes widening as he watches Derek toss pillows and another blanket onto the large porch swing. “Isaac’s wolf is missing the outside. The freedom,” Derek explains as he sets up a makeshift bed. “The fresh air will do him good. It was smart to bring him out here.”

Stiles swallows against the praise, still watching Derek’s broad shoulders flex beneath his sweater as he gathers things in place. “I, uh, didn’t want him to wake up Scott.”

Derek hums his acknowledgement. He sits on the swing, his back against one end, one leg stretched out along the swing’s back and one leg bent with his foot braced on the ground. “Come here,” he says again.

Stiles’ feet are moving of their own accord. He starts to hand Isaac off to Derek, but Derek shakes his head. “Both of you.” His arms are open and relaxed, and he’s looking at Stiles expectantly.

“Um.” Derek lifts an eyebrow, and Stiles jerks into motion. “Right. Okay. Sure.” He sits down tentatively in the open space between Derek’s thighs, albeit a good two feet away.

“Dewek cuddles?”

“Yeah, pup, I’m trying, if Stiles will get with the program.”

“Hey! If you would use your words like a normal person, things like this would go a lot faster.”

“Sti-ewes cuddles!” Isaac says gleefully, waving his hands.

“Yes, Stiles.” Derek’s voice is low, husky, but if Stiles didn’t know better he’d say there was a teasing note to it. “Stiles cuddle.”

“Dewek Stiles cuddles! I’s cuddles!”

“Alright, pup, I get it.” Stiles scoots closer to Derek, arms still wrapped around Issac.

Firm hands grip his hips and pull him backward, into the vee of Derek’s legs, and Stiles falls back against Derek’s chest before he can regain his balance. Isaac settles against his chest, one hand reaching out to also fist a handful of Derek’s sweater.

Derek is warm, solid, strong against his back, Isaac curled up trustingly against his front. Derek flexes the leg that’s hanging over the swing, sending it into a gentle motion that soon has Isaac falling back asleep.

“Better?” Derek’s voice whispers across Stiles’ skin, humming directly into his ear.

There are a million things running through his mind, a hundred reasons why he should move and a thousand reasons he should stay.

He lets the thousand win, and when Derek’s arms tighten around him, one large hand encompassing Isaac’s back, Stiles lets himself fully relax, his own eyes drifting shut. “Better.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek sees nothing but red, down on all fours as he sprints through the forest in full wolf form. He forces himself to focus on nothing but the scent of his mate, pushing away the anger enough that he can see his surroundings, hear any threats, see any obstacles.
> 
> Mate. Pups. Find. Protect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you everyone who has left kudos and comments! I'm going to try to get to them all but if I don't please know they mean the world to me, they keep me going on this fic, and I'm so glad you're willing to indulge in this fluffy mess with me   
<3

Later that night, Derek curls his arms tighter around a sleeping Stiles, and kicks himself for what he’d said about an hour earlier.

_“We get two mattresses, now?”_

_Derek had hauled the double bed mattress out of the room that now houses two cribs, and Stiles is watching as he arranges it on the floor next to the bed in his room. “Doesn’t fit in the pups’ room. Not with the cribs now.”_

_“Okay.” He feels Stiles’ eyes on him the entire time he’s bent over, shifting the mattress into place. “Well, this works anyway. Now you and I can each have our own bed.” Stiles sprawls onto the mattress Derek had just wedged into place._

_Derek huffs out a laugh. “You don’t think the pack is going to make their way in here more often than not?”_

_“Uh. I mean-“_

_“If you want to be smothered by half a dozen werewolves in the middle of the night, be my guest.” Derek hooks a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the queen bed he’d shoved against the wall. “But something tells me you’ll be more comfortable up there with me.”_

Stiles had finally agreed, damn him, so now Derek was stuck inhaling the spicy sweet scent of Stiles all night long. Stuck holding him, spooned up against him, Stiles lying relaxed and trusting within his arms.

Derek loved every minute. Stiles was rarely still, rarely silent, but in sleep, he was both. Correction, Derek’s wolf preened. In sleeping with Derek, Stiles was both.

He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said Stiles hadn’t slept a full night since his dad and Melissa had taken the pups that one night. Stiles has the same energy levels every day, but Derek can tell when he’s not sleeping, and from the moment Derek had roped Stiles into watching Isaac, well. Stiles’ lack of sleep, his constant exhaustion…

It was Derek’s fault, which meant Derek had to fix it.

He wasn’t blind to the way Stiles had been hesitant to curl up with him and Isaac on the porch. But once he’d settled, once Derek had started them swaying, whispering to Stiles how it was okay, they were safe, just _rest, Stiles,_ the boy had fallen asleep against Derek with all the trust in the world, same as the pups, and Derek…

Derek was fucking high off it.

After everything that had happened in the last few years, he and Stiles had developed a trust, maybe even a friendship.

_Liar, _his wolf taunted_. You’ve lov- you’ve trusted him deeper than friendship for years._

But trusting someone to save your life was a lot different to Derek than trusting them enough to get close in other ways. He wasn’t sure when exactly it had happened, but his wolf was more insistent than ever -fine, okay, _Derek_ was more insistent than ever, but half of him was made of animal instinct, and it soothed something inside him to blame his desires on that- that he get close to Stiles. That he let him in, let him feel safe, protected.

Cherished.

Derek let out a huff. He wasn’t exactly the tender, affectionate type. He finds himself wanting to be, now more than ever, when it comes to Stiles.

Stiles thrives on affection, on physical contact. It’s a big part of the reason the pups are drawn to him, Derek is sure. Not to mention Stiles rubs himself against Derek all the damn time, always touching his arm or his leg or leaning into him, their sides pressing together. Hell, on a few occasions, Stiles had even full on hugged him. But the boy seemed taken aback, shocked even, whenever Derek made to do the same.

He felt he should change that, was even more surprised that he _wanted_ to change it. He wants Stiles to know how important he is to the pack, how vital his role is in keeping them all together, how much Derek appreciates him.

_Mine. Mate. Protect. Love. _

Derek growls and turns his face into his pillow, telling his inner self to shut the hell up. He’d already roped Stiles into helping with two toddlers – babies, for Christ sake- he wasn’t about to tie him to Derek by pressuring him to be his mate as well.

Derek had survived a lot in his twenty-some years; he could survive this, too.

For now, he’d take what he could get, and he makes a silent promise to do a better job showing Stiles just how treasured he is.

His arms still secure around Stiles, his ears tuned into the steady soft breaths of his pups in the next room, Derek finally lets himself sleep.

“Stiles, watch out!” Erica grips his arm tight, just before he stumbles over a hidden tree root.

“Thanks,” Stiles says, righting himself. “That’s all I need, is to break an ankle out here in the wild, huh?”

Jackson snickers from his place up ahead, Scott riding on his back for their afternoon hike.

“Shut it, pretty boy,” Stiles mutters. He glances over to check on Isaac, who is perched in a carrier on Boyd’s back, looking happy as can be to be out in the fresh autumn air.

Lydia and Derek were back at the cabin while the rest of them went on a hike to bond and get some exercise, in addition to the lay of the land. It had been almost a week since they’d been here – which for Stiles meant several nights spent flush up against Derek, and let’s not talk about what sweet torture that was – and the pack were starting to feel safe, familiar, with this new (to everyone but Jackson) territory.

They hadn’t heard any updates from Deaton regarding Scott and Isaac’s de-aging spell, and Stiles and Lydia hadn’t found anything through research, either…though admittedly, they had both maybe been slacking a bit. Exhausting as it was, Stiles was happy, bonding with the pack and letting Scott and Isaac see the world through fresh, innocent eyes for a while. Despite the years of differences, everyone seemed to soften around the little pups.

Especially Derek.

It broke Stiles’ heart, knowing that Derek’s softness came from having nieces and nephews, came from caring for pups he’d never see again. Derek was a born protector, overly fierce about it though he may be, and Stiles swallows hard, because these little pups are damn lucky to have an Alpha like Derek looking out for them.

The whole pack is lucky.

Stiles…Stiles is lucky.

Boyd interrupts that train of thought when he calls for a rest at the top of the hill, before they turn around to head back.

They all readily agree, Boyd and Jackson unstrapping the toddlers from their carriers so they can grab some water and a snack before heading back down the small mountain. “Isaac we pway!” Scott runs around the group, jumping from boulder to boulder among the small forest opening.

“Me too me do it too!” Isaac bends forward, doing his best to push himself up onto the nearest boulder to mimic Scott.

“Nooope.” Stiles shoots out an arm, catching Isaac across the middle before he can tumble off the granite rock. “Stay on solid ground, there, baby.”

“No me wun wif Scotty!” Isaac takes off to the other side of the mini clearing, little legs pumping, stumbling every few steps but picking himself up every time.

They all watch as the pups run off steam, Erica and Jackson periodically jumping in to play along.

“Come on, puppy breath,” Stiles says later when Scott protests the end of playtime. “Don’t you want to go back to Derek and Lydia and have some dinner?”

“Dewek!” Isaac shouts excitedly.

Stiles reaches out for his hand. “Yeah, baby boy, let’s go see Derek.”

Erica jostles from foot to foot, clearly feeling antsy. Stiles can see that between walking with him and baby-sitting the pups, the wolves hadn’t gotten much exercise. Jackson doesn’t seem to mind, but Boyd and Erica are restless and twitchy.

“Go,” Stiles tells them, knowing they’re anxious to run the energy off. “We’ll see you back at the cabin.”

The wolf couple take off, racing each other through the fresh air down the mountain they’d all ascended hours earlier.

“Come on, puppy breath,” Jackson says, hefting the heavier of the two pups back onto his back. Stiles is grateful Jackson is willing to cart him on the way back; Scott is way too hyperactive and prone to running off to be let loose on his own.

He mutters his thanks, reaching out for Isaac’s hand. Boyd had forgotten to leave Isaac’s carrier, but it doesn’t matter. Stiles can carry the smaller pup if he gets tired, but for now, the exercise will go a long way to helping Isaac sleep that night.

They’re about halfway back to the cabin when Isaac starts slowing down. They stop so Stiles can lift the pup onto his back, Jackson helping to shift Stiles’ backpack to his front so Isaac could have his back. “Never thought I’d see the day you were helping me,” Stiles says before he can stop himself.

He waits for a taunt, a snicker, a retort that never comes. Instead, all Jackson says is, “Yeah, me either.”

Huh. Apparently, Derek’s Alpha discipline has done the spoiled rich boy some good.

_Derek. _Stiles warms at the thought of the strong, dark, brooding Alpha waiting for them at home. He spends the nights curled up in Derek’s arms, even if neither one of them mention it during the light of day. He hasn’t imagined, though, the extra touches Derek seems to engage in lately; a hand at his back when they get in the car, a hand on his hip as they maneuver around each other in the kitchen, long glances as they tuck the pups in at night. Stiles starts to smile, only to stop when Jackson’s arm shoots out to block him across the chest. “Stop.”

Stiles freezes, hiking boots stuttering in the dirt. He tightens his grip on Isaac’s ankles where they hang around his waist. “What is it?”

“Shh.” Jackson’s nostrils flare, his ears perking. He glances at Stiles and mouths, _other pack._

Stiles’ brain goes into overdrive. He thinks of Scott, Isaac, Derek, _pups, safe, Derek, Alpha, pups, keep safe. _He shushes Isaac’s whimpers and whirls around, trying to listen for anything out of the ordinary.

“Sti-ewes you-“

“Shh,” Stiles hushes Isaac. “Shh, baby. Let’s play a game, okay?” He looks at Scott as well. “Let’s play see who can stay quiet the longest. Let’s tell Derek who could stay quiet the longest, yeah?”

“I can hold them off,” Jackson whispers, so quiet Stiles can barely hear him. “So you can get home.”

He doesn’t like it, one of their betas staying out here on their own amidst an unknown wolf pack. But the pups are Stiles’ first priority, so he goes along with it and gestures for Scott.

Jackson slowly slides the carrier off his back, crouching down inch by inch to set Scott on the ground. Stiles gives Scott an encouraging smile. “Good job, Scotty,” he says softly. “Good job. So quiet. Stay quiet, okay, pup?” 

Miraculously, Scott nods, looking up at Stiles with wide eyes. Stiles hands his pack over to Jackson and swings Isaac around to his front, letting Jackson secure Scott to Stiles’ back. “Be careful,” he tells Stiles. “Once you’re far enough away from me, I’ll call for Derek.”

Stiles nods, giving Jackson one last look before taking off down the mountain. He tries repeatedly to call Derek the entire way, but there is no cell service to be found.

With one pup on his back and the other on his front, he coos soothing nonsense to his cubs as he fights his way through the brush of the trail, legs pumping, lungs burning, thinking of nothing but Derek, the cabin, _safety, Derek, home._ He doesn’t notice when errant branches and rough brush scratch his arms, his face. He bites back a curse as a sharp sting explodes across his shin.

He hears Jackson’s howl a few minutes later, and Stiles breathes again only when he hears Derek’s howl answer back.

Derek sees nothing but red, down on all fours as he sprints through the forest in full wolf form. He forces himself to focus on nothing but the scent of his mate, pushing away the anger enough that he can see his surroundings, hear any threats, see any obstacles.

_Mate. Pups. Find. Protect. _

He howls again, the first to answer Jackson and this one to call his other betas. He hears them answer back, lets them communicate with Jackson while he focuses on finding the other members of his pack.

If anyone, any wolf, has touched Stiles or one of his pups, Derek will rip them to shreds and revel in the taste of their blood.

_Derek._

He re-focuses, ears pricking, nose high in the air.

_Derek._

He adjusts his course, heading further east and a little more north.

“Derek.” He’s sure now, he hears it, hears Stiles’ soft chant, and he jolts, shifting so he’s headed straight for his mate, pride filling him at Stiles’ smarts of chanting Derek’s name to subtly alert him of their location as he makes his way through the woods. “Derek,” he hears amongst Stiles’ quick footfalls. “Derek.”

“Dewek!”

Derek’s heart bursts as he hears his pup cry out for him. He sees them seconds later, Stiles stumbling through the forest, Scott on his back and Isaac on his front. Derek immediately smells blood, almost whimpering when he sees it leaking from Stiles’ cheek, his forearms, his leg.

”Dewek!”

“Shh, baby. It’s okay, I promise, we’re okay, we gotta be quiet, right, we wanna tell Derek how quiet you were-“

Derek leaps out in front of them, nuzzling Isaac’s side, Scott’s neck, Stiles’ waist.

“Derek! Oh, thank fu-“ Stiles cuts himself off, biting his lip to keep from letting the panic out.

Gesturing for Stiles to keep heading towards the cabin is the hardest thing Derek has ever done. He needs to get to Jackson, to see who is tromping around in their territory, and to do that, he needs to know that Stiles and his pups are safe.

Erica, he knows, has already doubled back to meet Jackson, and Derek can see Boyd heading their way. He signals to Boyd to take Stiles and the pups back to the cabin so he can face the potential threat alongside his other betas.

“Dewek you stay we stay!”

Boyd, in full shift as well, huffs and plucks Isaac off of Stiles’ front, holding him by the scruff of the neck as he starts down the mountain, looking back to make sure Stiles follows.

“Derek, I-“

He growls at Stiles, every instinct within him at war, wanting to see his mate and pups safely home while also wanting to rip to shreds whomever sent them running terrified through the woods. He growls again, needing Stiles to listen, to follow Boyd, to get their pups home safe.

“Be careful,” Stiles whispers. “Please.”

He nudges Stiles’ hand with his snout in what he hopes is assurance before pushing at his butt to usher him towards Boyd.

“Okay, okay, I’m going, Sourwolf, jeez. Don’t die, okay? Please.”

Derek huffs, spinning around to sprint towards his betas once he watches Stiles follow Boyd back home.

“And den we wan!” Isaac jumps excitedly from his seat, running around the kitchen island in demonstration before crashing into Stiles’ legs.

“Yeah, baby, then we ran. Until Derek found us. That was a fun game of hide and seek, huh?” Stiles reaches for his water glass and takes a sip, hoping it will hide the shake in his voice.

He’s bent forward over the kitchen island, because the fear of losing Isaac and Scott hasn’t quite left him yet, and it’s all he can do to keep taking breaths, in and out, to try and hold on to what little control he has left so he doesn’t scare the pups.

“Stiles.” A firm hand settles across his neck, and Stiles’ knees almost buckle from the comforting strength.

“I’m fine, Derek. Just dehydrated.”

Erica scoops up Isaac where he’s pressing against Stiles’ calf. He sees her catch his wince as Isaac’s little fingers unknowingly dug into the wound Stiles hadn’t cleaned yet. “Come on, handsome,” Erica tells Isaac, settling him on her hip. “It’s bath time for little pups.”

“Scotty baff too!”

Lydia is already holding Scott’s hand, leading him upstairs. “Oh yes,” she says, her tone brooking no argument. “Scotty bath too.”

“I can do it,” Stiles says, levering himself up off the counter.

“It’s okay,” Lydia replies. “We got it.”

Stiles’ fingers curl in tight against his palms. “I said, I can do it!”

“Go,” Derek tells the girls. He’s already sent Jackson and Boyd on another perimeter watch, and his order leaves him alone with Stiles in the kitchen.

“Derek-“

“Stiles.” Those firm hands are cupping his face. “I know you can do it. And I know your every instinct is to be near those pups. I know, okay, because…because mine are screaming too.” Derek turns Stiles’ face up to be level with his own, so close they’re breathing the same air. He brushes a thumb across Stiles’ cheek, and Stiles’ heart pounds faster when he sees it come away red. “But right now, we need to get you cleaned up.”

“I’m fine,” Stiles protests. “I may not be a big bad wolf like you guys but I can help, dammit, I can take care of them, I can-“

“No one is saying you can’t,” Derek says softly.

“Okay, then let me-“

“No.”

“Derek-“

“_No.”_

Stiles jerks his head up, because he swears he just heard a whine coming from Derek’s throat, following his growl. He needs more water, or sleep, or something, because he’s never heard Derek sound like that.

Derek slowly leans forward, nudging Stiles’ head to the side so he can nuzzle his neck. Stiles understands the pack’s need for scenting, he does, but his pups are dirty, and little, and helpless, and maybe still scared, and-

“I know,” Derek murmurs, right into Stiles’ ear. “They need us. But first, I need you to be okay. I need to get you cleaned up. Let me take care of you.”

The dam breaks. Stiles can’t stay up anymore, can’t pretend he wasn’t filled with fear when he ran down that fucking mountain, his little pups’ lives in his hands, helpless to do anything but run and hope that the pack would prevail over whatever threat had been out there. He catches his breath, stutters when he can’t quite manage it. “Derek.” This time it’s a plea, rather than an argument, and he finds himself clutching at Derek’s shoulders, wanting to bury his head against that strong chest and let himself go.

But he can’t, he has to be strong, has to prove he can help, that he’s just as worthy of being pack as the betas. Has to take care of his pups, his mate, his-

“I’ve got you. It’s okay, Stiles. It’s okay.”

Derek’s arms come around him and lead him upstairs before Stiles has a chance to wonder what the hell kind of thoughts just flowed through his brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're ready for some hurt/comfort fluff, because omg is there gonna be hurt/comfort fluff
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, my lovelies. This fic and your joining it with me is getting me through some rough weeks. Thank you for reading this little family <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He walks across the extra mattress on the floor to sit on the edge of the bed he’s been sharing with Derek for the better part of a week.
> 
> That has to stop, Stiles thinks. After tonight.

“Easy. There you go.” Derek grips Stiles’ bicep -he has to breathe through his nose to hold back the rage at the fact that it’s the only part of Stiles’ arms he can grab that isn’t bleeding- and lowers him onto the closed toilet seat.

“Not gonna break, Der.” Stiles eyes flutter closed once his butt hits the seat.

“Take your shirt off.” Derek longs to say those same words again, when Stiles isn’t bleeding but panting, isn’t wounded but desperate, when he needs Derek in a much different way than now.

“Heh.” Stiles breaks out into a floppy grin. “Tryin’ to get me naked, Sourwolf?”

“In your dreams,” Derek huffs. In his, more like. He helps pull Stiles’ flannel and undershirt off all in one go when it gets stuck around his ears.

“Derek.” Stiles comes off the seat, suddenly fighting him again. “I’m _fine. _Why are we in this bathroom when the pups are in the other?”

“Because they don’t need to see you bleeding like this.” Derek could do without it either, quite honestly. He’s rougher than he intends, when sits Stiles back down and then swipes the first antiseptic pad across Stiles’ cheek. Stiles flinches, and Derek freezes. “I’m sorry.”

“S’ok.” Stiles reaches up to grip Derek’s wrist. He gives it a squeeze. “I’m okay.”

Derek keeps silent, because Stiles isn’t okay, but arguing isn’t what he wants to do right now. What he wants to do, is go back into the woods, find the wolves who scattered when they saw him and Erica and Jackson surrounding them, and sink his teeth into their necks so he can watch them die a slow, painful death.

“Der.”

Running had been too easy of an escape. Those wolves had encroached on his territory, threatened his pack, his pups, his mate. He’d track them down, hunt them one by one, rip them apart for what they’d almost done to his-

“Derek,” Stiles whispers. “Your eyes.”

Derek looks into Stiles’ wide, honey-colored irises, and takes slow, deep breaths until he feels the red fade from his own. “Sorry.” He moves on to cleaning the zig zagged scratches the forest branches had made across Stiles’ forearms.

Scratches he got while shielding their pups from feeling the same.

“I wasn’t quick enough.” Derek lifts Stiles’ forearm to his mouth, licking the wounds clean, his instincts taking over, pushing aside all thoughts except _Stiles, safe, mate, protect. _“You shouldn’t have these.”

“Hey.” He feels Stiles’ hand against his cheek and he turns into it, presses his lips against Stiles’ palm. “Derek. I’m here. I’m right here. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“Thanks to you,” he breathes. “Isaac, Scotty…our pups are safe because of you.” Derek squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to look at the angry red marks on his mate.

_The only marks he bears should be mine._

“Because I knew we had you to come home to.”

Derek blinks, before looking up at Stiles. He wasn’t sure when he’d sunk to his knees, in between Stiles’ thighs, the boy’s dirty jeans bracketing his shoulders. His hands make their way to either side of Stiles’ hips, and he has to close his eyes again when he hears Stiles’ sharp intake of breath before his voice is flowing over him.

“I was only strong enough to get the pups home because I knew it was you I was running towards,” Stiles says quietly. “I knew you’d come for us, but…it was more than that. It’s like I knew you were close, like I could feel, I don’t know, your energy or something.” He lets out a shaky laugh. “That sounds crazy. I just mean that…” Stiles’ hand wanders from Derek’s cheek to the back of his head, fisting just tightly enough in his hair to force Derek to look up at him. “You give me…your strength makes me strong.”

“_Stiles.” _Derek surges forward, needing to capture his mate’s lips with his own, to take, to claim, to-

“_WWAAAHHHHHHH! NOOO NO YOU NO WAHHH NO!! WANT DEWEK STI-EWES NOOOOO!”_

Derek’s head snaps up in tandem with Stiles’, Isaac’s cries piercing them both.

“I, uh.” Stiles jumps up from the toilet seat, fumbling around for his discarded shirt. He winces when it comes up bunched and bloody in his hands.

“Your leg. I still need to-“

“It’s fine,” Stiles interrupts, turning his back on Derek. “I can reach my own leg. Go. I’ll be there in a sec.”

Derek stares at Stiles’ pale back, his fingers flexing, jaw itching, wanting nothing more than to-

_“DEWEKKKKK, WAHHHH!” _

He snaps into action, his pup’s wailing wrenching his heart in two.

“Go,” Stiles says again, softer this time. “Please.”

Unable to fight the pull of his pup’s cry and his mate’s request, Derek does.

Stiles wraps white gauze around his shin, trying not to wince as it secures a large, white bandage to the three inch long gash in the shape of a comma that runs down the length of his shin to wrap around to the meaty part of his calf.

He almost laughs, at his and Derek’s dramatics moments before. His best friend got turned into a werewolf at sixteen; this is by no means Stiles’ worst injury. Which is why he can’t explain why Derek got so Alpha red-eyed on him earlier.

Although to be fair, Stiles can’t explain why his mind went blank except for _Derek, safe, pups, protect_ earlier, either.

He bends over and rips the gauze with his teeth, securing it around his legs with long strips of medical tape. He takes a moment to use a wet washcloth to rid himself of the worst of the dirt and grime, throwing on a pair of sweats and a tee shirt once he feels almost clean again. He’ll make Lydia cover his cuts in plastic tomorrow so he can take a real shower, but for now, Isaac’s whimpers and Scott’s periodic cries have him hastily washing his hands and darting for the other bathroom.

“Hey, puppy breath.” He crouches down to where Scott is hiding behind Derek’s legs, wrapped in a towel, cheeks wet with tears. “What’s all this? Bath time no fun?”

“Sty-wes!” Scott throws himself into Stiles’ arms, and Stiles has to shoot an arm out to keep his balance. He glances up at Derek, who has a softly whimpering Isaac wrapped in his arms.

“They were fine,” Lydia explains. “Until they weren’t.”

Erica settles a towel around Isaac where he’s skin on skin to Derek’s chest, wearing a clean diaper but nothing else. “They wouldn’t get out of the tub. They were fine, like Lydia said, playing and washing one minute and then freaking the hell out the next.”

“When we tried to take them out of the water, they freaked.” Lydia is pulling her hair back into a neat braid as she speaks. “They star-fished themselves across the tub and we couldn’t get them out.”

“We’ve got it now. Go check in with Boyd and Jackson.” Derek’s dismissal was evident, and Stiles is about to scold him for being rude when he notices how grateful the girls are for the excuse to get away.

“Sty-wes.” Scott whimpers into his chest, shoving his head into Stiles’ shoulder, over and over.

“I’ve got you, buddy. What are you doing?”

Derek hitches Isaac higher up on his chest. “He’s nuzzling.”

“Okay, but it’s not like he can nuzzle his way inside my freaking chest cavity.” Stiles tries readjusting Scott, but the little pup still whimpers and butts his moppish head of hair against Stiles’ body.

“He wants…” Derek’s voice sounds strangled, and he clears his throat before settling back into his familiar gruff tone. “He’s falling back on instincts. He wants connection, comfort. Skin on skin.”

Stiles jerks his head up to find Derek turning away from him, his dark triskele tattoo winking at Stiles as his shoulder blades undulate with the movement of cuddling Isaac. “Ah, right. Okay. Yeah.” He takes off the tee shirt he’d just put on, looking to Derek in wonderment as Scott settles immediately against his chest.

Derek, however, doesn’t notice, as he’s already out of the bathroom and making his way down the hall. Stiles follows, his mouth working but no sound coming out as he trails behind Derek into their bedroom. He walks across the extra mattress on the floor to sit on the edge of the bed he’s been sharing with Derek for the better part of a week.

That has to stop, Stiles thinks. After tonight.

Because tonight, he’s too tired, too drained, too unsteady to want anything but to curl up against Derek, absorbing the werewolf’s heat and strength as they fall asleep with their pups safely by their side.

“Can you take him for a sec?” Derek cuts into Stiles’ musings as he comes to stand knee to knee with Stiles. “I just need to…I just need a minute.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says without thinking, shifting Scott to one side before opening his arm for Derek to set Isaac against him on the other. “Actually…” He twists around, gently laying Isaac down onto the bed, lowering Scott down as well.

Derek isn’t even out of the room before the pups start crying, their little arms flailing, reaching for Stiles.

“Okay, okay.” Stiles scoots backwards until his back is against the headboard, tugging the sheets up to cover his legs. He hauls Scott up against his left side, then picks Isaac up to lie across his front. Both pups snuggle close, tiny fingers digging into Stiles’ skin where they try to hold on tight.

Stiles swallows a pained sound as Scott settles his weight against the cuts on his forearm. Before he can wiggle himself loose, Derek is back, scooping Scott into his arms and sliding Stiles across the mattress, placing himself between them and the door.

“Overprotective much?” Stiles asks, but he’s oddly touched by the gesture. It was so typical, so _Derek._

“Hush.” Derek flicks off the light, nudging Stiles down so he can rest his head on his pillow, Scott splayed across Derek’s chest and Isaac cocooned between him and Stiles.

A heavy arm comes down around his shoulders, and Stiles curls towards Derek, towards the heat and comfort waiting there, without even meaning to. His leg is throbbing, he can feel Isaac’s tiny exhales against his skin, and Scott has finally stopped whimpering, wrapped up tight between him and Derek.

Sleep tugs Stiles down fast, the blankets and Derek’s arms surrounding him.

Protecting him. “Safe,” he murmurs, and he isn’t sure whether it was said aloud or only in his head. He’s in a sleepy, drunken haze, and suddenly there is no pain, only peace.

“Safe,” he hears a familiar voice say before he succumbs to sweet oblivion. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

Derek wakes with the sun, soft orange and pink autumn rays bathing the room with the promise of brightness to come. He turns his head sideways on the pillow, a soft smile crossing his face.

Stiles is still passed out, eyelashes resting against his cheek where he’s on his side facing Derek. Scott is curled up against him, little spoon to Stiles’ chest, skinny arms wrapped around Derek’s bicep.

A puff of air hits his chin, and Derek tucks his head down to look at Isaac, who is currently climbing up his torso. “Hi Dewek!”

“Hi, baby,” Derek whispers, laying a hand over Isaac’s curls. “You still sleepy?”

Isaac shakes his head. “Hungwy.”

Derek laughs, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah? Me, too.” He props himself up on his elbows, exhaling with a huff when Isaac throws himself onto his chest. “Ooof, okay then. Let’s go get some food.”

“Pancakes!”

“Shh,” Derek admonishes. “Stiles and Scotty are still sleeping.”

“Still seepin’,” Isaac whispers. He covers his mouth, stifling his own giggle as Derek scoops him into his arms and gets out of bed. He turns to tuck the blankets back around Stiles and Scott, then grabs a tee shirt and one of Isaac’s small hoodies.

He waits until he’s out of the bedroom, door closed behind him, before he tosses on his shirt and changes Isaac. He dresses him in the hoodie and a pair of sweats, a warm, tight feeling constricting in his chest as Isaac limply lets Derek maneuver him into his clothes. Isaac’s eyes are bright and trusting as he lifts his arms up to Derek in a silent plea to be held again.

Derek is strong, but he’s not that strong, and he ends up mixing pancake batter and making coffee all with Isaac perched on his hip, because something in him doesn’t want to let the pup go any more than Isaac wants to be put down.

He’s got a double batch of pancakes in the warming drawer and is frying his second round of bacon when he senses one of his betas enter the kitchen. Boyd heads straight for the coffeemaker, filling four cups and then starting another brew cycle. “All clear this morning,” he tells Derek.

Derek lifts a brow. “You’ve already been out?”

Boyd dips his head in a nod. “Erica and I took perimeter when you put the pups to bed. Jackson relieved me in the middle of the night, then I took another look around five this morning so they could go to bed. We’re all good.” He takes a sip of coffee and rustles Isaac’s curls. “Best keep those sweats on, little man. It’s chilly out today.”

“Boyd Boyd!”

“That’s right, little man. Don’t you forget.”

“Thanks,” Derek tells him. Pride swells within his chest, and he commends Boyd on his vigilance as Lydia sashays into the kitchen. She grabs two of the cups of coffee and turns to head back to her and Jackson’s bedroom. “My man was up late last night,” she says. “Let us have the morning and we will cover lunch and dinner.”

Derek nods his assent. “Come back in a bit and take him some food.”

Lydia watches him for a moment, then sets down her coffees. She flutters back across the kitchen to press a kiss to Derek’s cheek. “Thanks.” With that, she’s gone again.

He looks over to Boyd, who just shrugs. “Erica will be out in an hour.”

Derek appreciates the accountability, especially after what happened last night. “I want to take another look around,” he tells Boyd, finally grabbing a cup of coffee for himself. “But I don’t want to scare the pups, and I don’t want to tell Stiles.”

“You got it.”

“Take it easy this morning, get more rest if you need it. After lunch, I want to retrace our steps from yesterday, see what we can pick up.”

“Dewek we pancakes weady?”

Derek nuzzles Isaac’s tummy before getting him situated in his high chair. “At your service, pup.” He piles a plate high with pancakes and bacon, then takes the seat next to Isaac, cutting a small portion of his own food off for the pup. “Don’t make a mess.”

“You mess.” Isaac immediately sticks his fingers into the small pile of syrup Derek had squirted onto his plate. He shoves him into his mouth, beaming at Derek. “Yummy.”

“Yeah? Try the actual food.” Derek is just about to take a bite of his own pancakes when Scott wanders in to the kitchen, sleepily making his way over to Derek. He raises his arms, so Derek scoots out his chair far enough that he can haul Scott onto his lap. “You hungry, Scotty?”

“Mm hmm.” Scott picks up Derek’s fork in one tiny fist and shovels half of Derek’s pancake into his mouth.

Boyd chuckles from his spot next to the coffeemaker. “Looks like you’re gonna run out of food, there, boss.”

Derek tilts his head down to look at Scott. “Hey, puppy breath. You gonna share?”

Scott opens his mouth, showing Derek a mess of half-chewed bacon and pancakes. “Ahhh.”

Derek wrinkles his nose. “That’s disgusting.”

“Gus-ting!” Isaac grins through a fit of giggles, mashing his own pancakes into his mouth.

Boyd is full on laughing now, already starting to make another batch of bacon. “What’s yours is theirs, yeah?”

“It would seem that way.” Derek snags a strip of bacon from his plate before giving up his chair and his breakfast to Scott. He piles another plate high with food, grabs a second coffee cup, and heads back to his bedroom. “Watch the pups for me, will you?”

“Right on.” Boyd keeps working at the stove, mixing eggs and tossing another batch of pancakes onto the stovetop. “You go feed your man.”

Derek would normally glare, growl, or otherwise put Boyd in his place for what he just said. Instead he finds himself smiling, his wolf tugging him forward in a rush to take food to his sleepy mate.

“Heaven.” Stiles rolls onto his back, the delicious scents of coffee, bacon, and something else invading his senses. “I don’t know where I am, but it must be heaven.” He stretches, long and slow, back arching off the soft sheets. He turns his cheek into his pillow, taking a deep, contented breath before slowly opening his eyes.

Derek is staring at him, lips parted, eyes dark as he watches Stiles move languorously amongst the sheets. He snaps to attention when he sees Stiles watching him, quickly grabbing a mug from the bedside table and thrusting it into Stiles’ hands. “Here.”

Stiles inhales the rich aroma, then takes a sip, welcoming the caffeine into his system. “I knew it,” he says. “Heaven.”

“How’s your head?”

“Fine.” Stiles reaches up to peel the butterfly bandage from his cheek, pleased when it comes away clean.

“Your arms? What about your leg?”

Stiles tilts his head, studying Derek. “I’m fine. I’ll change the bandages after breakfast.”

“I’ll change them.”

Stiles recognizes the Alpha within Derek’s voice. “Okay.” He sits up, makes a nest of blankets between his legs in which to rest his cup of coffee. “The pups?”

Derek sits on the edge of the bed, brushing against Stiles’ legs. “In the kitchen with Boyd.” The smile that lights Derek’s face is brighter than the sunshine filtering through the windows. “Stuffing their little faces with my breakfast.”

Stiles chuckles, then lifts his chin towards the plate in Derek’s hands. “Any of that for me?”

“All of it,” Derek says quickly, shoving it towards Stiles. “If you want.”

The deep sleep did him good, and Stiles is steadier than he’s felt in weeks. He sits up further, takes in the lines bracketing Derek’s mouth, takes in the way he’s not quite meeting Stiles’ eyes. He takes the fork and cuts a generous portion of syrupy pancake, lifting it slowly to his mouth.

Derek’s eyes finally lift, like Stiles somehow knew they would, to track the movement. He licks a drop of syrup from his lips, watches Derek watch him. “I can share,” he offers, feeling bold and brave and stupidly confident. “If you want.”

Derek leans forward. “I-“

“Sti-ewes!” Isaac runs in and jumps on the bed, jolting Stiles from his whatever the hell he had just been doing – what the hell had he just been doing? His hands shoot out to grab his coffee cup before Isaac can burn himself on it, and Derek leaps off the bed, plate in hand. “Sti-ewes, Boy’ says out’ide, we pway out’ide?”

“Kitchen,” Derek is saying as he backs out of the room. “Don’t know what I was thinking, kitchen makes more sense. I’ll uh, have more food. For you. In the kitchen.”

Stiles sets his mug on the nightstand and flops back down into the pillows. “You know something, pup?”

“Sti-ewes!” Isaac jumps onto his lap, pushing his syrupy sticky face against Stiles’.

“When you get big again, I’m gonna kick your butt.” Stiles runs his fingers along Isaac’s sides, tickling the pup into a fit of giggles. “You got that?”

“Sti-ewes! Sti-ewes tickwes! Ahh! No tickwe!” Isaac wriggles out of Stiles’ arms, bouncing off the bed only to peer over it back at Stiles. “You come wif and pway out’ide wif me an’ Scotty an’ Dewek otay Sti-ewes?”

Stiles throws a pillow over his face and groans into it, before getting out of bed and tossing on one of Derek’s hoodies. “Okay, pup.” He scoops Isaac into his arms, cuddling him as he makes his way downstairs. “Okay.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles’ face falls, and he readjusts Isaac on his hip. “So, what, we find Derek someone to balance him out? Like, another Alpha?”
> 
> “You find him a mate,” Deaton says simply.

“Catch anything?”

Derek sniffs the air one more time, before looking back at Boyd. “No.”

“Me either.”

“They were here.” Derek kicks a pile of branches. “They were here! Why can’t we scent them?”

“Maybe we aren’t the only ones with a little magic in our back pocket.”

Derek’s head snaps up, and now he wants to kick himself for not realizing this before. “Go back to the cabin. Gather the pack. We’re taking a trip into town.”

“Into town?”

Derek is already sprinting for the edge of the woods. “To Beacon Hills.”

“I’m sorry, can you say that again?” Stiles wiggles a finger in his ear. “Because it sounded like you said, ‘let me go get my ass kicked by the same witch who mini-fied my first beta and Stiles’ best friend’.”

“That’s actually not at all what I said,” Derek replied.

Stiles shrugs. “You said you want to go find the witch. Same thing.”

“Deaton gave me a hex bag. Her spells won’t work on me.”

“Sure. Awesome. Because I’m sure she has no reason to think you’d come prepared. I’m sure she will let you in and tell you exactly how to reverse the spell, just from being charmed by your sexy jacket and scary eyebrows.”

Derek raises one of the aforementioned eyebrows. “You think my jacket is sexy?”

Stiles sputters, turns on his heel, and walks out of the room.

“No, no, this actually makes sense,” Deaton says later, after Derek fills him in on what little the witch said. “Magick is quite reliant on balance. Everything in the universe balances out.”

Derek acknowledges his words with a grunt; he’s said something similar to Stiles before.

It’s the only hint the witch had given him.

_Find your balance. All will proceed from there._

He’d about ripped his hair out in frustration, but all she’d done was disappear into the woods after her cryptic message.

How they had gone this long without checking in with Deaton, he had no idea. It couldn’t possibly be because he was actually enjoying life these days…being with Stiles, taking care of Isaac and Scott, the pack all actually getting along for once…

Holding Stiles tight every night, keeping him safe, keeping him close.

The pups had given Derek a buffer, given him an excuse to touch Stiles, spend time with him, be a team for something as sweet an innocent as pack members turned toddlers, instead of reluctantly teaming up to fight whichever supernatural threat decided to come their way.

But now something had threatened his pack; whether it was a stray werewolf pack or something else, Derek needed to find out what it was. He’s the Alpha, he takes care of his own, and as much as he’s fooled himself into thinking that these last couple weeks could be real, he knows they aren’t.

As reluctant as he is to let this fantasy go, he needs to reverse whatever it is that’s affecting his pack.

Stiles swats him on the arm, making Derek tune back in to what Deaton is saying about Isaac and Scott.

“If the intended outcome of this curse, or spell,” he corrects, at Stiles’ objection, “is to find you a partner, well. Things would round out, hmm?”

Wait, what? He missed something. Find him a partner?

Deaton continues. “As it is, you’re an Alpha, and granted your leadership skills have improved quite nicely since those first tumultuous months. But you are an Alpha without anyone to check him, to nurture him, to…”

“Balance him,” Boyd says quietly.

Deaton nods. “Power, your personality, your wolf…call it what you will, but for now, you are in fact, quite…unbalanced.”

“Ha!” Stiles cackles. He holds up a hand to Deaton for a high five. “Rimshot.”

Deaton doesn’t take the bait. Stiles’ face falls, and he readjusts Isaac on his hip. “So, what, we find Derek someone to balance him out? Like, another Alpha?”

“You find him a mate,” Deaton says simply.

Stiles’ jaw drops, Derek sucks in a breath, and Erica and Boyd look upon both of them, wide-eyed and nervous. And maybe a bit…relieved?

“We couldn’t tell you,” Boyd says.

“It was killing us,” Erica whispers.

It hits him, then, what his betas had tried to say that day. The way they physically couldn’t tell him about the spell, the way they refused to even try. Derek’s head is swimming; were Boyd and Erica affected, too? Do they know how to fix this, but they can’t tell him that, either? Do they know _who _could fix this?

“A mate.” Stiles is looking at Derek as he talks, shock and something else all over his face.

Derek hates it, it looks too much like hurt, which doesn’t make sense, but not much does where Stiles is concerned.

He rushes to reassure Stiles…but of what? And why does seeing that look on Stiles’ face twist him up so badly he can’t even respond?

The moment breaks when Scott tugs on Stiles’ pant leg, and even though it must be a hell of a workout, Stiles bends his knees, Isaac still on his hip, so he can scoop Scott into his other arm.

“Stiles,” Derek starts, his arms outstretched. “Let me-“

“Nope!” Stiles says cheerfully, covering his taxed exhale with a laugh. “I’ve got this!”

Erica lets out a whimper, while Boyd looks lost.

“Totally got this!” Stiles repeats, as he stumbles his way out the door.

Deaton is still talking. “Magick is very intuitive. Spells are complexly woven, yet simple to break. They rely on truth, on energy.”

“So he can’t fake it,” Erica surmises.

Deaton nods. “Exactly. Only when Derek meets his true match can the spell be broken. Only then will things be back in balance.”

“What puts them out of balance?” Boyd asks. “What does some witch care that our Alpha is unmated?”

“That, that’s a question I haven’t figured out the answer to, yet.” Deaton glances at Derek. “The Hales were a powerful family. Loved, respected, on good terms with many witches, fae, and the like. Perhaps their ranks are feeling off-balance, what with no longer having a Hale dynasty to work with or befriend.”

“This…this is super cool,” Erica says, enthralled. “Wait till Lydia hears all this.”

Derek, for his part, can’t do anything but watch as Stiles walks across the parking lot with their pups. Through the window he can see him strapping the boys into the backseat of their SUV.

Stiles climbs into the front passenger seat and waits, and something inside Derek’s chest tightens at the sight of Stiles biting his nails, squeezing his eyes shut, and then turning to console whichever toddler just cried out.

_Isaac,_ Derek thinks, absentmindedly.

He spins around to face his betas. “Did you two know?”

They stay silent for too long, until finally Erica sighs. “We knew you had to be paired up. Matched. Find your mate. But-“

“Only you know who that is, Derek,” Deaton says quietly. He looks at Derek, head tilted to the side. “And you do know, don’t you?”

His chest twists again, and he firmly tells his wolf to shut up as he stalks out of Deaton’s, Erica and Boyd following nervously behind.

He pauses halfway out the door. “Take Stiles and the pups to meet up with Lydia and Jackson,” he says, tossing Erica the keys. “I’ll catch up.”

“Boss, what-“

“Just go!” Derek waits until they’ve pulled out of the vet’s office parking lot, waits another five solid minutes to make sure they’re out of earshot.

He turns back to Deaton, who is studying him again, one eyebrow raised. “What if I do already know who it is?”

Deaton calmly tidies up his exam table, readying it for the next patient. “Then it would seem you have your answer.”

Derek paces the room, frustrated with the vague response. “So, what, I just tell them they’re my mate, and Scott and Isaac poof back into adults?”

“Magick is rarely that simple, Derek.”

“Of course not.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “How do I make it simple?”

Deaton faces him. “I suppose you could just tell them.” He flicks off the light, stands in the doorway like he’s just waiting for Derek to catch up, in more ways than one. “But if your betas, affected by the spell, couldn’t tell you the problem, what makes you think you’ll be able to simply vocalize the solution?”

It takes a few moments, but Derek eventually hurries to catch up with Deaton, who is now crossing the parking lot, headed for his own car. “Are you saying I can’t just…tell them?”

“You could try,” Deaton suggests easily. “But do you think that would really solve the problem?” He tosses his work bag into his backseat. “The universe doesn’t take too kindly to us knowing more than it, Derek. If spells were so easily controlled, then what would be the point? One person can’t solve it all, Derek. It takes two.”

Derek slams his fists onto the roof of Deaton’s car. The vet doesn’t move an inch. “You’re telling me that even though I have the answer, I don’t have the solution?”

“I’m telling you that while it seems you may have both, you’re not being patient enough to let them come into play.” Deaton pulls something out of his pocket, holds it up. “What is this, Derek?”

“Are you serious?”

“Humor me.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “It’s a keycard.”

“Indeed. I’ve earned a vacation, and I’m about to take it. Now, what color is it?”

“Are. You. Ser-“

“What color is the keycard, Derek?”

“White! Jesus.”

“Suppose all I had to do to solve your curse, is say that this keycard is black? Would that work? Even if you know it to be untrue?”

“You tell me.”

Deaton just smiles, and flips the card around, showing Derek the reverse, the side he couldn’t see.

The side that’s all black.

“Sometimes we see the same thing two different ways, and it’s entirely possible that both are correct. All that matters, is that eventually, the two sides agree.” He slides into his car. “You can’t force the universe’s hand, Derek. But perhaps you can figure out how to nudge things along?”

“How is telling my mate, that they’re my mate, not nudging things along?”

“Maybe it’s not you who needs to be nudged.”

Derek can barely contain his roar. “You’re not telling me anything!”

Deaton tilts his head. “But have I maybe helped you to realize something on your own?”

He’s not sure, because all he can think of is _Stiles, Stiles, Stiles. _“How much time do I have?”

“If my intuition is correct? As long as it takes.”

Something twists inside his stomach. “And if it’s not?”

Deaton closes his car door, but Derek can still hear him. “Then I suggest you stop talking, and start doing.”

Derek watches the vet pull out of the parking lot. His phone buzzes, Boyd telling him which restaurant the pack is at, including John and Melissa.

He heads in that direction, feet dragging, because he came into Beacon Hills to find answers, and all he’s leaving with is more questions.

“Der?” Stiles nudges him for what has to be the fourth or fifth time that night. “You all good?” He’s been acting weird ever since he returned from Deaton’s, and even if it takes all night, Stiles is determined to find out what the vet had said after he’d left.

He hadn’t been able to listen, really, once he heard that Derek needed to find his mate in order for the pups to be big again. Not that they didn’t deserve to be, not that Derek didn’t deserve to be happy, it’s just…ever since hearing the words _Derek _and _mate_ in the same sentence…

It hadn’t really occurred to him that it’s something that would happen one day. Derek was theirs, he was their Alpha, their friend, their resident broody werewolf.

Stiles couldn’t really imagine sharing him with anyone new.

“Huh?” Derek looks up from his steak. “Oh. Yeah, I’m good.”

Stiles frowns at him, even as he starts to smile. It’s a facial talent, one he’s had since birth, according to his dad. He pushes aside thoughts of Derek and some unknown mate that he inexplicably hates, and keeps talking. “Okay. Because Melissa just asked why it’s taken us so long to come back to visit, and I thought, you know, you might want to handle that one.” He raises his eyebrows, because he’s gonna leave it up to Derek whether to tell her about the potential other pack.

“Right.” Derek looks up to find Melissa staring at him, along with Stiles’ dad. Thankfully, his other betas are too busy arguing over whose meal is better to be paying him any attention. “We should have called. It’s just been a little crazy, getting the pups settled in, and, uh…”

Stiles takes pity on him. “We want everything to be in order before we have you guys over.”

“Right,” Derek agrees.

“Oh, please, like we care about that.” Melissa is beaming at Scott, who is perched in her lap. “Although the longer I spend around my baby, the harder it is to know I’ll have to let him go again.”

Stiles glances over at Derek, suddenly feeling like maybe they’ve overstepped. “Mrs. McCall, if you want to take Scott, we-“

“No, no. I mean, there’s no way I possibly could. I have to work, I’d never be able to explain his sudden little-ness…besides, you boys were right. He seems so happy, being around his pack all the time.”

“He’s happy around you, too,” Derek says. It makes Melissa smile again, and Stiles wants to kiss him.

“Of course he is,” his dad huffs, and Stiles thinks it’s to hide the emotion he can see on his dad’s face. “Boy knows his mama.” He shares a warm smile with Scott’s mom, and man, Stiles just did not see that coming.

He takes the opportunity to turn to Derek. “Are you gonna tell me what Deaton said?”

Derek grunts. “You mean what he didn’t say?”

“Uh, okay. I don’t see how that’s helpful, though.” Stiles steals a bite of Derek’s garlic mashed potatoes. “Any clue how to help the pups? I mean. You know. Like. You gonna find someone to mate with while you’re here in town, or-“

“Jesus, Stiles, it doesn’t work like that.” Derek scowls at him.

“Well, I don’t know! Maybe if you’d do more than grunt at me, I could understand.”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, and no, okay, he doesn’t get to make Stiles feel bad about how confusing this must be for him, because it’s no picnic for Stiles either. “It’s more than I want to talk about in a public restaurant while our pack listens in, alright?”

“We aren’t listening,” Erica says.

“Not at all,” Jackson agrees.

Derek gives Stiles an imploring look, as if to say, _see?_

“Fine.” Stiles steals another bite of potatoes. “But we aren’t done.”

An odd smile crosses Derek’s face. “No. No, we aren’t.”

Later that night, in bed curled around Stiles and his pups, Derek thinks over and over about Deaton’s words.

If he couldn't simply tell Stiles what was needed to break the curse, if he couldn't tell him how much he meant...

Then Derek would just have to show him instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. Slow burn is slow. But I'm not ready to let go of this little family, and neither are Derek and Stiles. So I'm letting them tell me what they want...and Derek wants ample time to show Stiles what he means to him, all while enjoying what time they have with their pups. Sorry, but I know better than to argue with Derek & my muse. They make a terrifying team.


	11. Chapter 11

“You want to go to a what?”

“A pumpkin patch,” Lydia says primly. “It’s late October. Halloween is only a few days away. It’s fall, which means cute boots, pumpkin spice, and hayrides. So, obviously, we need to go to a pumpkin patch.” She shoves her phone underneath Stiles’ nose, showing him the site for a local carnival, advertising pumpkins, apple cider, hayrides, and carnival games. “The pups will love it.”

“They won’t even know what it’s for,” Derek says. Then he looks at Stiles, an odd expression on his face.

Stiles watches as Derek’s face seems to re-animate, twisting into something akin to…excitement? “Actually,” Derek says, his eyes alighting on Lydia. “That’s a great idea.”

Stiles gapes at him. “Are you serious?”

Derek shrugs, and continues to change Isaac’s diaper like the pro he’s become. “Pack bonding.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, dragging out the word. He’s in the middle of building LEGOs with Scott, whose little tongue is poking out of his lips because the tower they’re constructing takes a lot of concentration. “I just never figured you for the, you know. Festive kind of crowd.” He feels kind of guilty when he sees Derek’s face fall. Crap, who knows what he might have done as a younger Hale, a pre-fire-of-death Hale?

Way to go, Stiles. Way to go.

He sprawls out across the floor, legs still near Scott but his head now near Derek and Isaac. He nuzzles Isaac’s bare tummy as the pup giggles. It keeps him from having to meet Derek’s eyes when he mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Derek snaps the sticky fasteners of Isaac’s diaper, lets the pup roll onto his tummy to nuzzle Stiles. “I get it.”

“No, I shouldn’t have-“

“Oh my Goddd,” Jackson exclaims. “Are you two serious? Just slam him into a wall like you used to and get it over with. Shit.”

Stiles chances a look at Derek, and relaxes when he sees the upward curve of Derek’s mouth. “Pumpkin patch sounds awesome, Lyds,” he says, crawling back towards Scott, catching a LEGO in his hand before Scott can throw it across the room. “This weekend?”

“Actually, they’re having a special tonight,” Lydia says. “Two for one admission on the hayrides and corn maze. I thought we could go now, the pups could have fun, and then maybe, the rest of us could stay late? Like, date night late?” She looks to Derek with a hopeful expression.

Stiles checks his watch; it’s just past four in the afternoon. He steals a furtive glance at Derek, who is gently tugging Isaac towards him by way of grabbing the pup’s ankles and scooting him across the floor. Isaac is giggling his head off, making Derek smile, which gives Stiles all kinds of funny feelings in his chest.

“Sure,” he hears Derek say, and he honestly cannot think of a moment in the entire time he’s known Derek that he’s heard the Alpha sound so carefree. “Just give us ten minutes to get the pups ready, and we’ll go. That good, Stiles?”

Stiles ducks his head before anyone can see his besotted expression. _Ridiculous._ “Yeah. Sure. Cool. Okay. Yep.” He picks up Scott and takes him to the pups’ bedroom for a change of clothes, hastily escaping the room before anything else can be said.

“Dewek! I hold you?”

Derek scoops Isaac out of his car seat, those little outstretched arms too much for him to resist. “You mean, I hold you?” He settles the pup on his hip, looking across the gravel lot of the fairgrounds. The late afternoon sun still shines its rays across the sky, but he knows it will get chilly soon. “Stiles, did you bring your jacket?”

“Yes, Dad, I brought my jacket. And extra blankets for the pups.” Stiles hefts Scott out of his car seat, setting him on the ground so he can pull the stroller from the back of the SUV.

Derek thrusts Isaac into Stiles’ arms and shoulders him out of the way. “Let me get it.”

“Excuse me, _Alpha.” _It’s said with sarcasm and humor, but Stiles steps aside, and Derek’s dick twitches at the title.

Damn but he’d love to hear Stiles say that, utter that, _moan _that in bed.

“…still have plenty of time,” Jackson is saying.

Derek tunes back in, hands settled listlessly on the stroller he just pulled from the SUV, as his betas chatter around him.

Stiles is placing Isaac in the stroller, Scott has a tiny hand fisted in Derek’s jeans, and his other four betas are discussing whether to get fair food or do the corn maze first.

“I’m starving,” Erica announces.

“What else is new,” Boyd comments. “Food now is good, though. The corn maze will be a lot more fun later, at night.”

“Yes!” Erica shouts. “We can mess with all the teenagers who think they’re too cool for school.”

“Scare the shit out of ‘em,” Jackson agrees, showing his fangs.

“Watch it,” Derek scolds his betas. “Keep a lid on it, at least until dark.” The last thing he needs is for any of them to cause a scene. He shares a look with Lydia, whom he knows will help keep them in line.

He turns his attention to Stiles, who is currently squatted down in front of Isaac, securing the straps of the stroller while cooing at the pup. “Gonna get some yummy food, yes we are! Then maybe your Alpha will win you a toy at one of the games. You want a toy, little pup? Of course you do! Yes, you do!” He nuzzles Isaac, kissing his cheek when the pup smiles and giggles at all the attention.

Derek’s heart drops into his stomach and melts onto the floor, and it’s only when Lydia tugs on his jacket – “Good God, Derek Hale, _seriously,_” she scolds- that he stops staring, and moves with the rest of them towards the carnival’s entrance.

“Okay, this? This is awesome,” Stiles declares, as they all walk around the mini festival. It’s in town, and for the life of him he can’t remember the name of the city that Jackson said is closest to the cabin, but he doesn’t much care. The autumn evening still has enough daylight left that lots of people are here enjoying the rides and games, the pups still have energy, and while he refuses to admit just how sexy Derek looks managing two baby cubs, four betas, and all their paraphernalia, well.

Derek just looks really sexy managing two baby cubs, four betas, and all their paraphernalia.

It was also kind of- okay, _really- _adorable, how Derek had shouldered Stiles out of the way so he could buy both their tickets.

_Yes, fantasy island, ticket for one. _Stiles shakes his head, forcing himself out of his own musings. “Scotty, that pumpkin might be a little big, yeah? Pick one more suited to your size, puppy breath.” Stiles is grateful for the sturdy yet fashionable fall boots Lydia bought for him as he tromps around the pumpkin patch, following Scott’s hyperactive path through the aisles of dirt and straw.

The crisp, clean smell of fall hits him square in the face, and he savors every moment. He and Scott used to hit up the local autumn festival in Beacon Hills, always hoping to score with some cute girls, knowing that even when they inevitably struck out, they still had each other. Walking through the pumpkin patch with his mini best friend now, Stiles grins, because he’s still having the time of his life with the kid.

“Dewek want dis one!” Isaac’s voice floats across the field, and he’s wading through the hay bales and piles of pumpkins, his tiny hand encased in Derek’s fist, stroller folded up and strapped across Derek’s back for the time being.

“You sure?” Derek asks Isaac, following after the pup. “Lots to choose from, baby boy.”

Isaac disconnects from Derek and runs from patch to patch. “Otay, dis one! No Sti-ewes, dis one! Or no um Dewek get dat one!”

“Good thing the kid knows what he wants,” Stiles quips, meeting up with them across the aisles.

The betas had all gone off on their own for their much-needed date night, leaving Derek and Stiles to wrangle the pups through the pumpkin patch. Stiles has a vague memory of doing this with his own parents, but it’s a wisp, merely a blurry snapshot within his brain.

It feels good, making new memories.

Derek’s hand gripping his bicep pulls him back to the present. He narrowly misses tripping over entwined vines of a pile of pumpkins, still on his feet only thanks to Derek’s hold. “Thanks,” he mutters, finding his footing again.

“Sti-ewes, we pick dis one?” Isaac is standing next to a pumpkin that’s almost the size of himself. Just as Stiles catches up to him, another man beats him there.

“Sorry, kid,” the guy says to Isaac, no warmth in his tone and like he’s got any freaking right to talk to Stiles’ pup. “This one’s taken.”

Isaac’s face falls, because he’s been standing next to that pumpkin for what the pup must think feels like forever, and he doesn’t understand why he can’t have it. “No, it mine! Sti-ewes?”

Surely the guy can understand. “Ah, sorry, mister. Seems like this one is already taken? Maybe you could find another.” Stiles puts a hand on Isaac’s curls, watching as his pup curls his tiny arms protectively around his chosen pumpkin.

“Maybe tell your kid to look elsewhere, guy.” The semblance of a smile that crosses the man’s face is anything but friendly as he steps into Stiles’ face. “I think my daughter would love this one.”

“Well, there’s lots of pumpkins like it,” Stiles tries, not seeing the aforementioned daughter anywhere in sight. “My kid already called dibs.”

The man smirks. “Well, I’m sure your kid will understand if he has to pick something else.”

Isaac’s face falls, and Stiles straightens. “Look, dude, he’s just a kid. Can’t you-“

“No, _dude,_” the guy says. “I can’t.” He puts a hand to Stiles’ chest and shoves. “Move along.”

Derek is in front of Stiles and the pups in a flash, twisting an arm around the hand the guy has pinned on Stiles’ chest. “I think maybe _you _had better move along. And if you touch him or my kid again, I’ll break your arm. Understood?”

“Crazy asshole,” the guy mutters. “I could tell the Sheriff-“

“Oh, do!” Stiles says, beaming from behind Derek. “While you’re at it, tell my dad I said hi!” Dude doesn’t need to know that his dad is the sheriff of a different town, Stiles figures.

“And that his grandkid just picked the best pumpkin in the patch,” Derek adds, smirking.

The man sputters and turns away, muttering and cursing under his breath.

Derek spins around to face Stiles. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Stiles says, pushing Derek’s hand away, because he is not some damsel in distress, dammit, and it was _not _hot the way Derek had stood up for him. “Thanks for the backup, though.” He absolutely does not swoon as Derek picks up both Isaac and his chosen pumpkin, putting them both in the stroller as he moves them all along.

Derek is still catching his breath, reining in his wolf from seeing another man have the audacity to touch Stiles, to upset his _pup_, to-

“Dewek, we hungwy?” Isaac twists his head around to look up at Derek from where he’s sitting in the stroller. “Dewek we food!”

“Okay, pup. We’ll get food.” He keeps his eyes on Stiles, walking just a few feet ahead of him with Scotty perched on his shoulders.

When that man put his hand on Stiles’ chest and shoved, it had taken all of Derek’s control not to erupt like an enraged volcano. He’d felt Isaac’s unshed tears, smelled the slight tinge of fear beneath Stiles’ bravado, watched his pup’s little mouth quiver.

He’d wanted to rip the guy limb from limb.

“There’s a tent up ahead serving burgers and hotdogs,” Stiles is saying, using Scotty’s leg to point.

Derek blinks the red from his eyes and nods, and they weave their way through the crowd. Once they’re situated at a picnic table, food spread out in front of them, Scott on Stiles’ lap and Isaac on Derek’s, he finally starts to relax.

Words spill out of Stiles’ mouth. “Sorry I referred to them as…I mean, it was just easier to call Isaac-“

_Our kid,_ Derek fills in. He tamps down the pride that is threatening to choke him, and takes a huge bite of his burger. “No problem,” he says to Stiles. He must not have noticed that Derek did the same thing.

Stiles nods, wiping Scotty’s mouth as they share a hot dog. “I know it’s getting late, but I kind of promised Scotty a hayride…”

Derek smiles, catching a drop of ketchup from Isaac’s chin before it can fall onto his jeans. “Sure thing.”

“Mm hmm.” Stiles is grinning at him, his honey doe eyes twinkling, and Derek knows his mate is concocting something, just as sure as he knows he won’t be able to say no. He raises one eyebrow in question, and Stiles says, “Awesome. Hayride.” He grins even wider before saying, “Right after you win the pups some stuffed animals.”

“You can’t be serious.” Derek glares at him, eyeing the gimmicky strongman contest carnival game Stiles made him stop in front of.

Stiles shifts Isaac to his other hip, and Scott is grinning at him from his seat in the stroller. “As a heart attack, DerBear. Win our kids some stuffed animals. Scotty’s been eyeing that monkey all night.” He points to the garish display of carnival toys. “And I have it on good authority that Isaac wants a wolf plush. So.” Stiles hands him the mallet, full of all the confidence in the world that Derek’s werewolf strength can hit the weight hard enough to top the scales and ring the bell. “Have at it, Super Wolf.”

“Yay Dewek!” Isaac cheers. Stiles grins, and Derek rolls his eyes before taking the mallet from Stiles’ hands, but he’s grinning. It makes Stiles laugh, because he knows Derek well enough to know the sexy Alpha can’t resist a challenge, especially if it involves showing off his werewolf abilities.

His phone buzzes in his pocket as he watches Derek’s muscles arms swing downward. Stiles is grinning at the dumbfounded look on the carnie’s face as he wordlessly hands over a stuffed monkey to Derek, who promptly gives it to Scott. “Yo,” he says to Erica.

“Stiles? Put Derek on.”

Stiles tilts the phone closer to his mouth. “You okay?” Out of the corner of his eye he sees Derek slam the mallet down again, ringing the bell for a second time, much to the pups’ delight. “And you do know your Alpha has his own phone?”

“He’s not answering. Put him on. Please.”

Stiles glances down to where Scott is holding Derek’s phone in his hands, remembers that Derek had given it to him when he’d gotten antsy on the long walk from the food to the games.

Derek is raising an eyebrow at him, and Stiles thrusts him the phone. “It’s Erica. Needs her Alpha.” Stiles smiles at Isaac, who is reaching towards the display of wolf plushies hanging on the wall of the game booth.

“Any one he wants,” the carnie says, still staring at Derek with open-mouthed curiosity. “Almost broke my game. Never seen that before.”

Stiles doesn’t respond, just coos at Isaac who points to a black and grey wolf stuffed animal. The carnie plucks it from the display and shoves it into Isaac’s hands.

“Okay,” Derek is saying when Stiles pushes the stroller over to where Derek had walked between two booths. “Try not to draw attention. I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Der?” Stiles clasps his hands beneath Isaac’s butt, to keep them from fidgeting. “Everything okay?”

Derek turns to him, handing him back his phone with a soft smile, and _Jesus,_ he needs to warn Stiles before disarming him like that. “It’s fine. Just something I need to check out.”

“Hey,” Jackson appears behind them, barely out of breath even though Stiles knows the corn maze is on the other side of the fair. “They’re waiting for you, like you said.”

“Okay.” Derek nods at him, then steps closer to Stiles.

“Derek?” Stiles looks around, trying to filter out the potential threat.

“Everything is fine, Stiles. I need to take a raincheck on that hayride, though.” He runs a hand over Isaac’s hair, but the pup is too busy pressing his face into his new wolf plush to notice.

“Jackson just ran a sub-three mile, and Erica called my phone to get ahold of you. Everything is obviously not fine.”

“Stiles-“

“Don’t lie to me, Derek!”

“Alright!” Derek leaves Scott with Jackson, tugging Stiles a few feet away in a mockery of a semblance of privacy. “I’m not lying to you. I’m sure everything is fine. But the betas spotted some odd activity-“

“The other pack?”

“-And we want to make sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

“And you are so not worried about it, that you had Jackson come back to babysit me.”

Derek frowns at him. “I’m not taking any chances, Stiles, not with you or the pups. How’s that leg, by the way?”

His shin and calf had started to throb about an hour earlier, not that Derek needed to know that. “I’m not helpless, Derek.”

“Which is why I know the pups will be safe with you.” Derek reaches out to cup Stiles’ cheek, the gesture oddly intimate. “Walk around with Jackson like nothing is going on. If I’m not back in twenty minutes, take the pups home, okay?”

Stiles hitches Isaac higher on his hip. “Take your phone back from Scott. Text me the instant you’re on your way back.”

Derek’s relief is evident. “I will. Promise.”

Stiles fists a hand into Derek’s jacket. “I hate when you go all arrogant Alpha.”

“I know.”

“I don’t, really.”

“I know that, too.”

“Stiles!” Jackson calls. “Your pup needs to go potty.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, because Scott had never been able to hold it, not even as an adult. “Be careful,” he says to Derek, stepping back so that Derek’s hand falls from his face.

Derek nods, quickly scenting Isaac, then Stiles. He walks them back over to Jackson, taking his phone from Scott’s hand as he leans down to nuzzle Scott’s neck.

“Dewek where you goin’?”

“Just to go find the rest of our pack, puppy breath,” Derek tells Scott, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Stay with Stiles and Jackson. Keep them safe, right?”

“Right!” Scott nods, his arms around his new stuffed monkey.

“Stiles-“

“Go, Derek,” Stiles says, and it comes out harsher than intended, because he’d been stupid enough to think this was starting to feel like a date, like they were a normal couple, or at least a normal…it didn’t matter. They were pack, there were always going to be threats, and Stiles was always going to be the useless, squishy human, left behind while Derek took care of business with the ones who could actually help him. “Your betas are waiting.”

When Derek finally made it home, three hours later, he noticed three things.

The pups were sleeping soundly, tucked safely in their cribs, Scott’s back against his new monkey and Isaac’s cheek nestled against his wolf plush.

Jackson was asleep sitting up in the hallway, his back against the wall, exactly halfway between the pups’ and Derek and Stiles’ rooms.

And Derek’s bed was perfectly made, untouched, because Stiles was asleep on the mattress on the floor, alone, for the first time since Derek had moved it into their room.

“And nen we woke up, an’ Dewek made food, and nen we wan wif Bowyd and Ehwica, and it was fast an’ an’ an’ funny an’ nen Dewek disappear wike poof! And nen Ehwica bwing us back home!”

Stiles nods along as Scott, bright-eyed and excited, gives him a run-down of their morning. “Sounds like a busy day, puppy breath.”

Scott slams himself into Stiles’ side. “We wanted you to come!”

“I was working, bud.” He’s still trying to, because he’s not quite done with the article on mates and their bonding habits, but Scott’s long-winded rant and the way Isaac is chewing hungrily on Stiles’ fingers aren’t very conducive to work. “Nice of Derek to disappear during lunchtime, though.”

He gets up from his pseudo workspace on the couch and heads for the kitchen, the pups tagging excitedly along behind him.

After lunch, Stiles gives the pups a bath to clean off all the forest dirt from their active morning. He foists them off on Jackson and Lydia for awhile so that he can take his own shower, and spends a little too long under the spray analyzing why it is that he feels so crappy.

He’s tired, from the whirlwind of taking care of two small toddlers.

He’s full of love, because those same toddlers make him melt every time they say his name.

He’s horny, because he’s been spending most nights wrapped in Derek – good thing he put a stop to that last night- and spending way too much time around the sexy Alpha in general.

He’s frustrated, because Derek had indeed disappeared, just like Scotty said, and has yet to return several hours later.

He’s pissed, at himself for falling into some domestic fantasy where he and Derek take care of the pack together, and he’s _super pissed_ at Derek.

For a lot of reasons.

But mainly, for making it impossible for Stiles to fall out of love with him, even after all these years.

The shower had been refreshing, but Stiles was exhausted again, because he’d been alone with the pups most of the afternoon and evening, while Derek was still gone and all the betas had scattered around to who knows where.

He’s at the sink, cleaning up from a simple mac n cheese dinner he shared with the pups when Derek finally walks in. He doesn’t say anything to Stiles, just goes over to Isaac and Scott where they’ve fallen asleep together in the comfy easy chair, to scent them before heading upstairs.

Stiles mutters all kinds of curses to himself, silently of course, because stupid werewolf hearing. He’s still trapped in his own head ten minutes later, mad at himself for being mad, which is probably why he doesn’t hear Derek come up behind him.

The warm, strong arms that wrap around his waist, the soft stubble that scrapes his neck; those, oh, yeah, those he notices. Stiles tips his head back, tamping down a moan, because it’s just scenting, just Derek’s werewolf instincts, nothing else, that’s making him get all up on Stiles.

But Derek has just showered, and his sweater is soft and he smells like heaven, like shampoo and man and _Derek,_ so Stiles lets his hands go limp in the dishwater he’d been about to drain, and he leans back into all that solid strength behind him.

“Wanna show you something,” Derek murmurs in his ear, and Stiles must be really sleep-deprived, because he swears Derek’s lips brush his neck. “Outside.”

“’S freezing outside, Der.” Stiles’ eyes have fluttered shut, and for some reason he’s whispering, just like Derek.

“I’ll keep you warm,” Derek says, and it’s a promise, whispered across Stiles’ skin.

“The pups-“

“Boyd took them upstairs.”

Stiles revels in this moment, imprinting it onto his brain, because never again will Derek hold him like this, so gentle, so sweet, like he’s something precious that Derek never wants to let go. Maybe it’s the night air, that’s making Derek act like this, or the impending full moon, or…Stiles doesn’t care what it is. He just wants to hold onto this moment, for as long as he can.

“Stiles,” Derek whispers again. “Come with me.”

“Okay,” he says, not having any idea where Derek is about to lead him. “Okay.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Uhh, so not to harsh anyone’s buzz, but there’s a perfectly good sofa inside, you know, where it’s warm, and-“
> 
> Derek takes his hand, tugs him over to the blanket nest. It’s a layer of several sleeping bags, Stiles notices now that they’re up close. “Inside doesn’t have stars.”

Stiles has been out in the woods with Derek hundreds of times. Sometimes to stake out a potential threat, sometimes to plan an attack, sometimes to unknowingly get caught by an ambush.

Never, not once, has he been out in the woods with Derek for anything resembling the serene setting he’s seeing right now. Derek had led him into the night, out the back of the cabin, through a small copse of trees, around some rock piles to the east side of the lake.

Waves make tiny ripples onto the sandy pebbled shore, their crests shining in the moonlight, about ten feet from where…Stiles blinks.

From where there is a blanket, no, it’s too thick to be a blanket. A blanket pile? A soft six by six cozy retreat is set up on the grass just beyond the shoreline. A block of something- a cooler, Stiles realizes- is sitting on one corner of the blanket. Two pillows lay to one side, a folded-up quilt taking space on the opposite corner.

“Uhh, so not to harsh anyone’s buzz, but there’s a perfectly good sofa inside, you know, where it’s warm, and-“

Derek takes his hand, tugs him over to the blanket nest. It’s a layer of several sleeping bags, Stiles notices now that they’re up close. “Inside doesn’t have stars.”

Stiles pauses, watching as Derek arranges the two pillows. He sits on the blanket and looks up at Stiles, an expectant look upon his face. “Stiles. Sit down.”

“Ah.” Stiles does, careful not to touch Derek, because he still doesn’t know what the hell this all is. He flips open the cooler, because he can’t sit still to save his life, and blinks when he pulls out a large plastic container, filled with what looks like a rich, decadent dessert.

He squints, trying to read the label under the light of the moon. When he recognizes the logo on the box, not to mention the scent of chocolate heaven filling his nose, he turns to Derek. “Are you serious?”

Derek scoots closer, ostensibly to take the container to open it for Stiles, but really all it does is make Stiles aware of the Alpha’s body heat. “Your dad said it was your favorite.”

Stiles almost keens, because triple layer chocolate mousse cake from Salvitano’s was always a special treat in their household. “It freakin’ melts in your mouth, man. It’s so fucking good. It…wait. You talked to my dad?”

Derek pops the lid and comes up with a plastic fork. “I wanted to get something special, to uh. You know. Thank you. For being so…helpful. With the pups.”

Stiles looks down to where Derek is cutting into the corner of the cake, slicing through layers of mousse and filling. “I…wow. That’s really nice, Der. Thank you.”

Derek holds out the fork and offers him the first bite, but when Stiles reaches for the utensil Derek pulls back, eyes on Stiles’ face like he doesn’t quite realize what he’s doing.

Stiles lowers his hand, his lips parting slightly, and Derek moves towards him again, inching the fork closer to Stiles’ mouth. He’s helpless to look away as Derek guides the fork to his lips, the flavor of handmade chocolate bursting across his tongue. Derek’s lips are parted, eyes dark, as he watches Stiles’ lips close around the fork to take the full bite.

“Ohmygawd.” Stiles moans around the richness, smooth cocoa and cream melting in his mouth. “Taste it. Now. You’ve gotta taste this, Der, it’s amazing.” He opens his eyes to see Derek cutting through the slice of cake again, lifting the fork that Stiles just licked to his own mouth, his eyes on Stiles the whole time he runs his lips across the tines to taste the cake himself.

“Fuck,” Stiles whispers. It’s low, so low that he can’t even hear it, but he figures Derek can. He shifts his legs around his stirring cock, mesmerized by the movement of Derek’s lips. “Is this where you were all day? Organizing…” he waves his hands around. “This?”

Derek ducks his head, offering Stiles another bite of cake. “For some of it, yeah.”

Stiles says nothing, thoughts racing through his head, getting tangled amongst one another. He focuses on the sounds of the lake, the taste of rich chocolate, the angles and shadows of Derek’s entire being, as they sit and share the decadent dessert.

He’s licking remnants of the last bite of cake from his lips when Derek turns to pull something else from the cooler. Stiles jumps when Derek pops the cork on a bottle of sparkling wine, and throws his head back in laughter when the Alpha awkwardly places his lips beneath the bottle to catch the foam spilling over the top. “Champagne, Derek, really?”

Derek smiles at him, a little bit sheepish, and _fuck,_ Stiles’ heart about jumps out of his chest. “I figure we’ve earned something, for keeping the pups alive this long,” Derek says by way of explanation. “Crap.” He fishes around in the bag, coming up empty. Frustrated, he thrusts the bottle at Stiles, so he can dig with both hands. “I, ah. Forgot cups.”

“You say that like drinking from the bottle is going to deter me.” Stiles takes a swig of champagne, bubbles exploding on his tongue as he gives Derek a sideways grin.

“Good thing you’re easy,” Derek tells him.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, grinning and passing him the bottle. “Good thing.”

Derek sips from the bottle Stiles had just drank from, heady from the taste, albeit indirectly, of his mate. Sharing the fork, watching Stiles’ pretty mouth run along the utensil, his eyes closed in the pleasure of the rich taste Derek had brought him…

Derek’s dick was throbbing, his heart pounding.

Sharing the champagne bottle, tasting the wetness from Stiles’ mouth, bubbles exploding across his lips, down his throat?

It was all Derek could do not to throw Stiles down onto the blanket and just _take_.

“Can’t believe you did this,” Stiles is saying, flopping down onto the blankets.

_Mate, comfy, safe, protect._

“And even brought pillows.” Stiles lies on his back and hums in contentment, sending pride shooting through Derek. _Mine, mate, happy._

Derek nestles the bottle between them within the blankets, and lies down on his back shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh with Stiles.

It’s quiet, peaceful, coming up on midnight out here by the lake. It’s cold enough that most forest inhabitants are burrowed in for the night, only the buzz of the heartiest creatures floating through the trees. The waves of the lake lap at the shore, and once in a while the wind picks up just enough to make itself known. But otherwise, all Derek can hear is the soft rush of Stiles’ breath, and the steady, if not quicker than normal, beat of his heart.

“My mom used to take me stargazing,” Stiles murmurs. “I don’t really remember, it’s just a blur here and there but. She knew all the constellations and star signs.” He shifts, tugging his jacket tighter around his body, and the movement presses him even closer into Derek’s side. “I haven’t done this…well, maybe a few drunken nights with Scott, but…I haven’t really, not since…”

“I know,” Derek says quietly. “You told the pack once, when Jackson and Boyd were talking about going camping.”

Stiles turns his head sideways to look at him. “I did?”

Derek nods. “It was a while ago. But since we’re out here, I just thought…” He shrugs, not sure how to say what he’s thinking.

“It’s nice,” Stiles says quietly. He turns his head back to look up at the glittering night sky. “Thank you.” They enjoy the quiet and the light of the stars for another moment, then Stiles levers himself up enough to take another sip of champagne. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and when it falls away Stiles is smiling, soft and fond, like this look on his face is just for Derek.

“Stiles…” Derek leans closer.

“Yeah.” It’s a whisper, yet it ignites Derek’s entire being.

Until he sees the slight shiver pass over Stiles. “Here,” he says, reaching over Stiles to grab the quilt. “Don’t want you to freeze.” He drapes the blanket over them both, with the bulk of it over Stiles.

“Thanks.” Stiles lies back down, his head on one of the pillows. He’s closer to Derek than he was before, and he’s on his back, looking up at the stars, but all Derek can see is him, Stiles, his mate, his…

His anchor.

It hits him like a sucker punch, and he draws in a sharp breath. Derek turns onto his side, props himself up on one elbow. With his other hand he reaches for Stiles, yearning to caress his face, but he stops shy, curls his fingers around Stiles’ bicep beneath the blanket instead.

“Always with the scenting, Sourwolf,” Stiles murmurs. He turns his face sideways towards Derek, smiling that same sweet smile, and Derek is lost.

He dips his head, heartbeat picking up as he sees Stiles’ gaze drop to his mouth. In the span of a millisecond, Derek searches Stiles’ eyes, his lips, his eyes again before he can’t wait any longer, and closes the distance between them.

Stiles’ lips are soft, pliant beneath his own and Derek moans, low and deep in his throat, instantly drunk on chocolate and champagne and _Stiles._ A hand comes up to clutch his jacket, and he leans into it, lets Stiles tug him closer until he’s forced to lever himself up even further so he doesn’t crush his gorgeous mate.

The movement jostles them both, and Derek takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tracing Stiles’ lips with his tongue, blood pulsing south as Stiles moans and opens for him.

Derek’s left arm shoots straight up so he can twist his body above Stiles, so he can cover it with his own, his hands braced on either side of Stiles’ shoulders. Once he finds his balance, he leans to one side, tracing Stiles’ jaw with his free hand, his hips pressing into Stiles’ thigh as he continues to devour his mouth. He wedges one knee between his mate’s legs, drawing it up just enough to nudge Stiles’ between his thighs, and Stiles gasps, lips parting further as his head falls back.

Derek tentatively pushes upward again, because focusing on that control is the only thing saving him from ripping off Stiles’ clothes and taking him, right here beneath the moon and stars. Stiles draws in his knees, making room for Derek, and _fuck_, the insinuation hits Derek square in the chest. His cock grows harder, digging into Stiles’ thigh.

“Derek, _fuck._” Stiles’ hands are roaming all over his body, searching, touching, scorching. He fists a hand into the hair at the back of Derek’s neck and curls the other around Derek’s hip, fingers digging into Derek’s side. His tongue meets Derek’s thrust for thrust, their kiss turning open and wet and dirty. “Need you, need…”

“Take it,” Derek says, because he doesn’t care what Stiles wants. Everything he has, everything he is, belongs to Stiles. “What do you need.” It’s an oath, a promise, rather than a question and Stiles moans again, the sound needy and wanton and delicious.

“Need you…need you to touch me, God, Derek, _please,_ touch me.”

Derek runs his hand down Stiles’ chest, across his stomach, reveling in the feel of the muscles jumping there before continuing south to cup Stiles through his jeans. Stiles keens and thrusts into Derek’s hand, moans and pleas spilling from lips swollen and shiny wet.

Possessiveness surges through Derek at the sight of his mate, so disheveled and needy, from him, _for _him. He rips open Stiles’ jeans, his hand seeking the heat within, and when he curls his hands around Stiles’ silky-smooth skin, he’s not sure which of them moans louder.

“Feel so good, Stiles.” Derek runs his thumb over Stiles’ tip, smoothing the bead of liquid all around the head before sliding down to the base of him. “Feel so good in my hand, hard and leaking just for me.”

“Derek, Derek, _fuck_, not gonna last,” Stiles gasps. He lets out a carnal string of curses when Derek pulls his hand away from Stiles, only to lick it before stroking him once more.

Derek grinds his own hips into Stiles’ thigh, relishing the almost too painful friction as he watches Stiles writhe and thrust into his slick hand. Stiles’ arms flail in his direction, trying to seek out Derek but Derek just catches them, pinning Stiles’ wrists above his head with one hand while his other picks up speed along Stiles’ cock.

“Gonna come, Der, I can’t…can’t stop…oh, _fuck.”_

“Come for me,” Derek commands, his lips on Stiles’ chest. “Come for me, Stiles, let me see you.” He strokes faster, his thumb raking over Stiles’ sensitive tip on every pass.

Stiles’ legs stiffen for a moment before going lax, and he’s staring up at Derek, eyes half-lidded, mouth open on a series of ‘ohs’ as he comes, hard and fast in Derek’s grip, coating his stomach and Derek’s hand in his come.

His head falls back onto the pillow, and Stiles moans again before a slow, goofy smile crosses his face. “I think…I think I died. Give me a second to come back to life, and then I’m gonna make you see stars, buddy. Heh. Get it?” He waves a lazy hand towards the night sky above them.

Stiles’ eyes are still closed when he hears Derek chuckle. Seconds later he feels Derek’s stubbled jaw against his own, as Derek alternates between soft kisses and open-mouthed nuzzles. When Stiles’ eyes finally open again, it’s to the erotic sight of Derek licking Stiles’ come off his hand.

“Oh, _fuck, _Derek,” Stiles moans. “You’re like your own porno. I’m gonna be able to go again in about two seconds if you keep doing that.”

“Taste so good, Stiles,” Derek murmurs, and Stiles’ dick twitches, because who knew his Sourwolf was so fucking dirty? Derek is gazing down at him, eyes hooded, and Stiles is debating whether to suck him off or feel the hot heavy weight of Derek in his hand when Derek’s head snaps up.

Stiles startles. “Der?”

“Shh.” Derek’s nostrils are flaring, and Stiles feels colder than ever when Derek rolls off of him and onto his feet, smooth as a panther. The look in his eyes, Stiles notices, is just as deadly.

Stiles hastily buttons his pants as Derek turns to him. “Go back to the house. Slowly. Quietly. Straight to the pups, okay Stiles?”

He nods, his heart beating rapidly in fear, because even though he can’t see any danger, Derek obviously can. “You’re coming with me, right?”

“Go to the house,” is all Derek says. His back is to Stiles, and he’s inching backward, covering Stiles’ body as they step carefully towards the cabin. It’s a lesson Derek taught him early on -_don’t run, never run-_and somehow amidst the pounding of blood in his ears he remembers the advice. Stiles tries to make as little noise as possible as he gradually makes his way back to the cabin.

Derek grabs his wrist once Stiles is close to the back porch. “Stay with the pups. Send Boyd and Erica out here.”

He’s dying to object, to demand answers, to stay with Derek. But he thinks of his pups, small and helpless in their beds, so he nods. “Derek. Please. Be careful.”

A hard, fast kiss is pressed against his lips, and suddenly he’s being thrust towards the cabin’s sliding door.

He rushes up the stairs, passing along Derek’s message. Boyd and Erica are outside in a flash, and Stiles hears the howls of his pack as he quietly enters the pups’ room.

Scott and Isaac are both sleeping soundly, their stuffed animals pulled close as their little snuffles echo throughout the room. Stiles ducks into his and Derek’s bedroom only long enough to grab a blanket and Derek’s pillow before he’s heading back to the pups.

Settling himself on the floor between their cribs and facing the door, Stiles throws the blanket over himself and tucks his face against Derek’s pillow, letting the Alpha’s familiar scent calm him. He breathes, slow and steady, because he has to stay calm if he’s going to keep their pups safe. He hears Lydia and Jackson set up in the hallway outside his room, and he tells himself he can do this, he’s not alone.

Stiles listens to his pups’ soft snores, and he breathes, and he holds Derek’s pillow close, and he waits.


	13. Chapter 13

When Stiles stirs awake, he’s no longer on the floor of his pups’ bedroom. He blinks his eyes open, realizing he’s in the living room. And he’s lying against something very warm, and very solid.

“Hey.” A stubbled jaw teases along his ear. “Good morning. Or, afternoon.”

Stiles sits up, bracing his hands on Derek’s strong chest, mostly because it’s the only solid surface within reach.

And it feels really…really good. “What time is it?”

“Almost one.”

Stiles’ heartbeat picks up when he notices the empty room. “Where are Scott and Isaac?”

Derek shifts beneath him on the sofa, turning them both so Stiles can see out the sliding glass door into the backyard.

His dad has Isaac on his shoulders, the pup giggling in delight as John runs circles around the yard. They’re chasing Scott, who is trying valiantly to hide behind his mom’s legs, sputtering laughter as he peeks between her knees.

Stiles relaxes. “The other pack…?”

“Boyd and Erica are on watch. Jackson and I are taking over after dinner. And yes, your parents are staying.”

A pang shoots through his chest at Derek’s phrasing, but once the initial shock passes, Stiles finds a lingering sense of peace, of…contentment. “Okay. Yeah.”

“Hey.” Derek puts two fingers beneath Stiles’ chin. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Stiles sits up for real this time. Something about the pack threat is tugging at the back of his mind, but he can’t quite piece it together yet. So instead, he blurts out what he’s been wondering since the night before. “Why did you take me into the woods?”

Derek blows out a breath, almost making Stiles smile as the Alpha looks every bit the nervous, broody loner he was when they first met. “I told you. I wanted to show you I appreciated you.”

“By giving me some toe-curling kisses and one of the best handy j’s of my life?”

“No! I mean, yes, but that’s not why-“

Stiles shoots off the couch. “Do you think you have to jerk me off to thank me for helping you?”

“NO! Stiles, that’s not it. I just…we were so close, and you smelled so good, and I-“

“Yo, Stiles!” John’s voice filters inside the door. “You alright, son?”

Stiles bites his lip, grounding himself before turning around to face his dad. “Yeah. Yeah, Dad, I’m good.”

“Looks like you got some sleep,” his dad comments, standing in the sliding glass doorway, pointedly looking at the tussled sofa.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, looking at Derek. “I did.”

Derek starts to stand. “Stiles-“

“Sti-ewes!” Isaac bounds into the room, his chubby little cheeks flushed from being outside. “Papa and Mama Mickll say dey take us fo’ candy fo’ Hawwoween!” The pup jumps into his arms, certain Stiles will catch him.

“They did?” Stiles raises an eyebrow at his dad.

John rubs the back of his neck. “Look, it’s been a long time since Melissa or I got to indulge our little boys. We know you have your hands full, and-“

“It’s great,” Stiles says, smiling at Isaac. “Really.”

“You sure?”

“Dad, I’m nineteen. Taking two little kids trick or treating isn’t exactly my idea of a fun Friday night.”

“We can take them back with us to Beacon Hills, let them get candy down at the station. That way we don’t have to worry about, uh, any external threats.” Stiles watches as his dad looks to Derek for approval.

Derek starts to nod, but then catches Stiles’ eye. When Stiles lifts a shoulder, Derek says, “That would be great. Thank you.”

John smiles at them both, before rejoining Scott and Melissa. Isaac has his hands wrapped firmly around the lapels of Stiles’ plaid shirt, content to stay inside.

“Stiles.” Derek yanks him back down onto the couch, bracing an arm behind him to catch him and Isaac. “I mean it. I wasn’t trying to make you feel…I only wanted to make you feel good.”

Stiles closes his eyes, nuzzles into Isaac. “You did,” he whispers. “I just…wanted to make sure it was real.”

Derek’s hand closes around the back of his neck, tugging him close. “Trust me,” he breathes into Stiles’ skin. “It’s real.”

Later that afternoon, it’s Derek’s shirt Isaac won’t let go of. The pup is clinging to Derek’s chest, so much so that even when Derek loosens his arms, the pup continues hanging off his Alpha’s body. “No don’ wan’ go! Wan’ stay wif Dewek and Sti-ewes!”

Scott is standing near the front door with the sheriff, dressed in a slap dash cowboy costume. He’s hopping from one foot to the other, eagerly awaiting the trip back to Beacon Hills that he knows will end in a bucket full of candy.

Melissa walks over to Derek, so she can press a gentle hand to Isaac’s back. “Don’t you want to come out with Scotty and get some candy, sweet boy?” she croons. “I bet you’d make an adorable little wolf, yes you would!”

Isaac blinks tears from his eyes and looks at her. Derek sighs in relief, thankful his cries have stopped. When Melissa reaches out her arms, he shifts to place Isaac in them.

Then Stiles comes back downstairs, Isaac catches sight of him, and his wails start again. “Noooo! I stay wif Dewek Sti-ewes!”

“Hey, hey now, what’s all this, pup?” Stiles comes over to soothe Isaac. “What’s with the waterworks?”

“Hmmmp.” Isaac nudges Stiles, but is still reluctant to leave Derek’s arms. “Stay Sti-ewes.”

“Okay, pup.” Derek bounces him on his hip. “It’s okay. You can stay with us.” He curls a hand around the back of Isaac’s head when the pup buries his face in Derek’s shoulder.

Stiles looks as confused as Derek feels.

John takes Scott’s hand. “That’s alright. We can still take this young buck to make the rounds.”

“Yay candy! Candy, Mama!”

“Yes, sweet boy!” Melissa takes him outside after he says his goodbyes.

Stiles hands John Scott’s stuffed monkey. “He’ll want this tonight when he goes to sleep.”

John takes the animal, and pulls his son in for a hug. “You boys take care of yourselves.” He catches Derek’s eye over Stiles’ shoulder. Derek gives him a nod, still soothing Isaac.

When they’ve left, Stiles turns back to Derek. “What was that all about?”

Derek shrugs, shifting Isaac on his hip so he can turn on the oven. “I don’t know. He was excited about trick or treating earlier. I guess he changed his mind.”

“Is that it, pup?” Stiles is back at their side, reaching for Isaac’s little hands. “You change your mind and decide to stay with the cool kids?”

“Sti-ewes.”

“None other.”

“You Sti-ewes you Dewek.”

“Sure thing, pup.”

“Hmmmp.” Isaac leans over in Derek’s arms until he’s spilling against Stiles, who takes the pup and continues to question their awesomeness versus that of the rest of the pack. Derek shoves a pre-made pizza into the oven for them to share, a fond smile on his face as he watches Stiles settle into the living room with Isaac.

They have the house to themselves, since the betas were all in town, enjoying the Halloween night life. Derek had opted to stay behind, keep an eye on the cabin. Stiles had begged off as well, and as much as Derek wanted to think it was so the two of them could have some time alone, he’d been able to tell all day that something was on his mate’s mind.

He’d just have to wait it out, and hope that Stiles trusted him enough to share.

Stiles is still chattering away to Isaac in the living room when Derek takes the pre-made pizza out of the oven. He sets them on the table, stealing glances at Stiles as he puts out plates and cups.

“I wonder if it’s the full moon,” Stiles says a few minutes later when they’re seated. He takes a bite, mouth opening wide around a piece of meat supreme pizza. “That’s making Isaac all…” He mimics a crying face.

Derek can’t look away from his mouth. “What?”

“The full moon is in two days,” Stiles says. “Do you think it’s affecting the pups? Or will affect them?” Isaac, having settled down some, is perched on Stiles’ lap, playing with his own small slice of cheese pizza.

Every once in a while, a bite actually lands in his mouth, so Derek’s calling it a win. “I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t, at least to some degree,” he tells Stiles.

“Hmm.” Stiles polishes off a second piece of pizza and reached for a third. “He seems to be a lot more chill now.” His tone is casual, but there’s something underneath that makes Derek zero in on his mate.

He tries to read Stiles’ expression, taking in his laser sharp gaze, the slight upward curve of his mouth. “He does,” Derek agrees, speaking slowly.

“That’s good,” Stiles says. “Hopefully once we put him down, he’ll sleep soundly enough in his room that I can blow you in ours.”

Derek chokes on his next bite of pizza.

_“Stiles.” _

“Hmm?”

“Your mouth…”

“Mmm.”

“Oh, _God.”_ Derek fists a hand in Stiles’ hair- damn but he loves that his mate has been growing it out- and fights the urge to thrust his hips forward into that slick, wet heat.

Stiles drags his lips along Derek’s length, dipping his tongue into the slit before pulling off. “You can, you know.”

Derek looks down at him with hooded eyes. “Can what,” he pants.

“Move my head. Thrust into my mouth.”

Derek almost explodes right there. “Stiles, _fuck.”_

Stiles runs his tongue along Derek’s shaft, eyes closed in pleasure. Derek can feel the outline of Stiles’ erection against his leg, and he bends his knee to give his mate something to grind against.

“Mmmf, Derek.” Stiles jerks his hips forward as he swallows Derek down once more.

Derek cups a hand behind his head, readjusting his fingers within Stiles’ silky strands, and gently pushes forward. Stiles moves with him, wrapping his lips more firmly around Derek as they gently push-pull back and forth, Stiles seemingly as lost in the erotic act as Derek.

“Gonna come, sweetheart,” and Derek blinks down into Stiles’ doe eyes, certain an endearment like that has never once passed his lips. But Stiles keeps moving, keeps sucking, keeps _loving_ on Derek’s dick. “Gonna come if you keep … sucking …just … like…that.”

Stiles does something wicked with his tongue, and the pressure is too much, and Derek comes with a primal cry, shooting down Stiles’ throat.

“Come here.” He yanks Stiles up to his level, chasing his own taste on his mate’s tongue. “You… you are-“ He’s kissing Stiles, wet and fast and open, unable to put into words how incredibly contented he feels. Not just from the orgasm, but because Stiles is here, safe and close and beautifully unguarded.

Derek slides a hand downward, until he feels Stiles hot and pulsing in his hand, and he swallows his mate’s cries of pleasure as he guides him towards release.

Stiles presses his lips to Derek’s pec, breathing in the Alpha’s scent where he’s snug between Derek’s arm and chest.

They’re both naked, covered by the luxurious sheets of their shared bed -seriously, thank you Jackson’s parents, for sparing no expense when it comes to creature comforts- and Stiles tries, he really does, to enjoy these quiet, peaceful moments of bliss.

But, pleasantly tired as he is, something is still poking at the back of his mind. “Hey, Der?”

“Hmm.” Derek turns his face into Stiles’ hair, breathing in deep.

Also, so like…when did this freakin’ happen? What the hell has made Derek suddenly into puny human Stiles?

He pushes those thoughts away, and zeroes back in on what’s been bothering him. But first…”Isaac?”

Derek cocks his head, listens. “Still sleeping like a baby.”

Stiles relaxes, but only slightly. “Der, I think…I’m not sure that the wolf pack is really, you know, a wolf pack.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not so sure that what we’ve been led to believe is a threat, is actually the threat.”

“Stiles.” Derek shifts beneath him, settling them so they’re on their sides, facing each other. “I’ve become pretty good at reading you over the years, but what you just said makes no sense.”

Stiles resists, just barely, the urge to lean forward and kiss the adorably confused frown off of Derek’s face. It seemed too intimate a gesture, for two people who were…well. Doing whatever they were doing. Stress relief while watching two kids? Blowing – heh- off steam between supernatural crises?

He blinks himself back to the present. “Remember how you said Deaton told you he thinks maybe things need to be back in balance, because other supernatural societies – witches, fae, all that- used to rely on you Hales?”

“Yes,” Derek says, dragging out the word.

“Well, have you actually _seen_ the wolf pack? Or only smelled and sensed it? Could faeries or, I don’t know, whoever, be tricking all your wolfy senses?”

Derek sits halfway up, propped on one elbow so he can look down at Stiles. “Why would they do that?”

Stiles lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know. To keep us on our toes? Isn’t this whole toddler pup fiasco just one big ruse to find you a mate?” He ignores the pang in his chest. And continues. “Maybe you’re taking too long. Maybe they’re trying to send a message, for you to hurry up or whatever.”

“Or maybe they’re continuing whatever the first witch started.”

Stiles nods. “Exactly.”

Derek slumps back down, lying on his back. He tugs Stiles closer, and sure he could have resisted, but he’s got Derek Hale in his bed, touching him, wanting to _cuddle_ with him, and well.

Stiles just isn’t that strong.

He lets himself be moved, mindful of the still-healing gash on his shin as he lets Derek cuddle him close. Damn, but it feels good.

Warm.

Safe.

“Why would they bother with all the trickery?” Derek is saying.

Stiles curls an arm around Derek’s middle, rests his injured shin on Derek’s leg. “Because faeries. Duh.”

“We don’t know it’s faeries.”

“We don’t know it isn’t.”

He feels Derek’s mouth against his hair, hears his Alpha’s deep inhale. “You’re about as helpful as Deaton.” Derek’s tone has a hint of humor in it, and for a brief moment, Stiles lets himself think that maybe Derek isn’t in any more of a rush to move on from nights like these as Stiles. “So, what do we do?”

Pride fills Stiles’ chest, at the thought of Derek valuing his opinion. “Well, we could go into the woods. Pay whomever is messing with you a visit.”

“Hmm.” He hears the fatigue in Derek’s voice, and Stiles is hit with a wave of fondness, and also a strong need to let Derek rest. Their Alpha takes care of everyone, all the time, always watching, waiting, anticipating the next threat to come their way.

Throw in two energetic toddlers – toddlers, hell, Isaac was practically a baby- and an entire pack into that mix, and it’s a wonder Derek is awake as much as he is. “Sleep,” Stiles tells him. “We can figure it out tomorrow. I just had to get it off my mind.”

He’s pulled closer into the circle of Derek’s arms. “Glad you told me.”

They lay there, sharing the bed, the pillows, the same air. Stiles doesn’t know when he’s ever felt so protected, so safe.

He’s just about to drift off to sleep when he hears Derek say, “Brace yourself.”

Fifteen seconds later, the door they always leave cracked is being pushed open, little feet scampering across the floor. “Dewek Sti-ewes you seep wif me?”

Stiles’ heart melts as Derek lifts Isaac onto their bed by the scruff of his neck. “Sure, pup,” Derek is saying, his voice soft and deep. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Isaac burrows between them, and Stiles thinks their adorable little pup is the only thing that could have pulled him away from Derek. “Sti-ewes! You seep wif Dewek I seep wif you?”

“Sure, baby,” Stiles says sleepily, pulling the pup close. “Go on to sleep.”

“Otay.” Isaac buries his face in Stiles’ chest, his little butt bumping against Derek's stomach. Soft little snores quickly fill the room.

Stiles isn’t far behind, following him into slumber. Because Derek settles them in, drawing the blankets up over them all and throwing an arm behind Stiles’ head to pull both him and their pup close, and Stiles has never in his life felt so safe.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Deaton said it won’t work if it’s not true,” Lydia argues.
> 
> Derek gives her a sad smile. “He’s been wrong before.” 
> 
> Lydia scoots forward, studying his face. “You really do love him.” When he doesn’t respond, merely looks down at his hands, she nudges him. “Then spell or not, he deserves to know. Alpha up, Derek Hale.”

“Sti-ewes?” Isaac blinks sleepily up at him, still nestled between Stiles and Derek in their big comfy bed. “We ‘wake?”

“Hey, pup.” Stiles runs a lazy hand over Isaac’s curls. He turns his head to see Derek’s face just inches from his, soft and lax in slumber.

Stiles eases himself out from beneath Derek’s arm and their nest of blankets, Isaac latching on to his side as he does so. He throws the covers back over their Alpha and sneaks out of the room.

“Dewek still seepin’?”

“Yeah, baby, shh. Derek’s still sleeping.” Stiles shifts Isaac onto his hip with one arm and grabs the bag of baby clothes they keep in the hall with the other. Isaac often wakes up early, and he and Derek have taken turns getting up early enough that they’ve learned to keep a changing bag outside of the bedroom so as not to wake the other.

Stiles pauses for a second, wondering when the hell he and Derek Hale had started being so considerate of one another.

To say nothing of sharing a room, a bed, or, you know, _orgasms, _for craps sake.

Isaac’s tiny hands clap his cheeks. “Sti-ewes we food?”

Stiles chuckles, carrying the pup and the diaper bag downstairs. “Yes, hungry hungry hippo, we’ll make some food.”

By the time he gets Isaac changed and puts coffee on, all the betas have joined him in the kitchen. Boyd nudges him gently aside to start making breakfast, and Stiles shoots him a grateful look as he settles into the living room recliner with Isaac.

When Jackson and Erica come in and drag out the box of LEGOs, however, Isaac is off Stiles’ lap like a shot, diving onto the floor to build spaceships with his packmates.

“Did our little Stiles finally wear our big bad Alpha out?” The proffered coffee cup in Lydia’s hands takes any sting out of her words, leaving only a teasing note.

“Gimme.” Stiles takes a sip of coffee, closing his eyes as he relishes the jolt of caffeine. “He’s more exhausted than he lets on.”

“Hmm.” Lydia sits beside him, her perfect butt propped on the arm of the plush chair. “Good thing he has you.”

Stiles can’t stop the deprecating laugh that escapes his lips. “Yeah. For now.”

“Are you planning on going somewhere?” Lydia asks innocently.

Stiles glares at her. “Come on, Lyds. You know this isn’t…we’re not…”

“Head over heels, stupidly blind in love with each other?”

“Lydia!” Stiles hisses. He lowers his voice as far as he possibly can. “He might be awake.”

“So, he might hear how you want his mate to be you, and you two being idiots are the only reason we’re still taking care of two babies?”

“_Lydia!” _

“What’s that, Boyd?” Lydia calls out to no one. “You need my help? Alright, then.”

Stiles curses her as she walks away, and pretends he doesn’t see the twin smirks on Erica and Jackson’s faces.

When Derek wakes up to an empty bed, he’s surprised at how rested and relaxed he feels.

The first few times he’d waken up alone, he’d panicked until he’d forced himself to listen for Stiles’ and the pups’ heartbeats throughout the house. Now, he savors this feeling of utter bliss before he fully opens his eyes and faces another day.

Lydia is the only one in the kitchen when he makes his way downstairs after a shower. Derek grabs a cup of coffee, grinning at the plate of scrambled eggs and bacon that Stiles left out for him.

He joins Lydia at the kitchen island, grabbing a seat on the barstool next to hers. He almost asks where everyone is, just to make conversation, but he can see them all playing outside through the sliding glass door, and Lydia is concentrating on whatever is on the laptop screen in front of her, so he eats in companionable silence.

Until she breaks it by calmly asking, “Have you told Stiles you love him yet?”

Derek almost spews eggs across the counter. “What?”

She slams the laptop closed. “Oh, please. Like it isn’t obvious.”

He raises an eyebrow in her direction. “Obvious to who?”

“To whom,” she corrects. “And I don’t know, only everyone?”

Derek swallows thickly, and takes another few sips of coffee to buy himself some time. “Ah, I don’t-“

“Don’t what? Know how to tell him you love him? That he’s your mate? That you know how to break the spell?”

“I don’t know,” he counters, holding back a growl. “It only counts if he feels the same.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “Oh, for…you can’t tell me you don’t know that he-“ she cuts off on a sharp gasp.

“Lydia?”

She’s staring at him, wide-eyed, as she gasps for air.

“Lydia!” Derek shoots off his seat, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He runs a hand along her throat, but can’t feel any blockage. “Lydia, it’s okay, you’re okay, try to stay calm, and _breathe.”_

Thankfully, she does, bending forward over his arms as she sucks in deep breaths. “What the hell was that?” she shrieks.

Derek loosens his hold when she motions that she can stand on her own. “I don’t know,” he says, his brow furrowed.

Lydia takes a sip of water, and clears her throat to compose herself. “All I was saying was that Stiles is…he…he l-oh god, oh, g-“ She bends over double, choking and gasping again.

Derek catches her again, and this time muscles her over to the couch to sit. He glances over his shoulder, but luckily no one outside has picked up on whatever is happening inside.

A sick feeling of déjà vu twists in his gut. “You’re trying to tell me something that will affect the spell, aren’t you?”

She looks up at him, eyes wet at the corners, and gives the briefest of nods.

He blows out a breath. “Well, don’t. The last thing I need is for my smartest beta to be out of commission.” He tries to smile, feeling a little calmer as he watches her breathing even out.

“Flatterer,” she whispers.

“That’s me.” He sits down next to her on the couch. “What the hell do I do?”

She turns towards him, eyes swimming with entreaty, and he wants to howl at the frustration of it all. “What the hell do you all know that you can’t tell me?”

They sit in silence for a moment, then Lydia quietly says, “I think if you pay enough attention, you’ll figure it out for yourself.”

Derek slumps back against the couch, letting his eyes close as he pulls his thoughts together. There’s a certain calmness that he wouldn’t have expected, sitting here with his only human beta – besides Stiles, but he doesn’t exactly think of him as…anyway – and he finds the words leaving his mouth before he can stop them. “You know I love Stiles.”

He feels, rather than sees, Lydia nod.

“You know I think…no, I _know…_he’s my mate.”

She doesn’t respond, maybe she can’t, but when he opens his eyes and looks at her, she’s looking back at him with understanding.

“I can’t tell him,” he whispers. “Not physically, not outright, not…I can’t tell him because of the spell, and I can’t tell him _because of the spell.”_

Lydia turns towards him, still drawing in slow, steady breaths. She puts a hand on his knee, and it encourages him to continue. “Stiles is the most self-sacrificing member of this pack,” he starts.

“Ha!” Lydia cracks a smile. “Besides you.”

The corners of his mouth lift. “Fair enough. But you know I’m right.”

“So?”

“So, if I somehow communicate to him that he’s my mate, that he’s it for me, and oh by the way, I think you feel the same which would be great because it would make Scott and Isaac big again…well, what do you think he’d say?”

He watches as Lydia chooses her words carefully. “I think he’d say what’s necessary to break the spell.”

Derek leans forward, anxiously propping his elbows on his knees. “Exactly. Even if it’s not true.”

“Derek-“

“You know I’m right. Stiles would do anything for his pack, even if it means sacrificing his own happiness.” Derek wrings his hands together. “Wolves mate for life, Lyds. If I tell him he’s my mate, that us being together -balancing me out- will bring our pups back, you know he will accept.”

“Deaton said it won’t work if it’s not true,” Lydia argues.

Derek gives her a sad smile. “He’s been wrong before.”

Lydia scoots forward, studying his face. “You really do love him.” When he doesn’t respond, merely looks down at his hands, she nudges him. “Then spell or not, he deserves to know. Alpha up, Derek Hale.”

He snaps his head up. “Excuse me?”

“Stop hiding. Tell him how you feel. He deserves that, and so do you. Forget about the spell, forget about mating for life or whatever. You deserve to love someone as much as you love Stiles, and…” She takes a moment to think about her next words. “And to find out whatever might come from it.”

“What comes from it could be agonizing pain.”

Lydia stands up, primly brushing off her jeans. Her eyes are sharp but her face is soft as she looks at him and says, “Nothing we haven’t dealt with before. And we’ll deal with this as we always do. As a pack.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he says again.

Lydia dons her jacket, clearly on her way outside to join the others. “When Jackson first asked me out, he bought me a pair of earrings.”

Derek finally looks up from his hands.

“And I seem to remember that the first time I got really, really mad at him, he made it up to me with flowers and a massage.”

Derek scowls. “I can’t-“

“Oh, and this one time? About six months in? He cooked me dinner at his house, hired two waiters…swear to god, Derek, hired actual cater waiters…who filled our every demand. There was pasta, wine, amazing service…anyway, do you know why he did it?”

“To show off his wealthy douchery?”

“To make me happy. To make me feel special, and pampered.”

“What’s your point?”

She throws a scarf around her neck, and shrugs. “That’s also when I told him I loved him for the first time.” She slides open the door, looks at him over her shoulder. “But I’m sure that has nothing to do with your situation.”

He scowls at her again, but she doesn’t see it. She’s already outside, laughing and running around with his betas, his pup, and his mate.

While Derek cleans up from breakfast, and ponders all she had said.

Later that day, he corners Stiles alone. “Hey. I want to…I need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere, uh, just the two of us?”

Stiles is keying away at his laptop, barely looking up. “Yeah, totally. I just want to check out…yes! Awesome! Okay. Hey, can you go into the woods with me? I want to test my fae theory, but on the off chance that I’m wrong, I really don’t want to end up werewolf chow.”

Derek frowns. “Now?”

“Uh, yeah, Sourwolf. Unless you’ve got a hot date?” Stiles is already pulling on his jacket.

“But Isaac-“

“Is about to go into town and get the shit spoiled out of him by Lydia and Jackson.”

“Stiles, I really need to tell you something.”

“Tell me on the way! The way to the fae. Ha! Derek, you rhymed. Well, I rhymed for you.” Stiles nudges his side, and Derek’s wolf practically purrs in contentment at having his mate so close. “Come on, DerBear. Be my big bad wolf bodyguard through the dark scary forest.”

Derek has already donned his leather jacket. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

Derek is about to agree, but his tongue feels like it’s on fire, and his throat is swelling up, so he swallows his words.

Once he can breathe again, he grabs Stiles’ hand, then lets his mate lead him into the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you for the continued response, kudos, comments, and love for this fic! It means the world <3


	15. Chapter 15

“Okay,” Stiles says as they reach a small clearing in the woods. “Somewhere around here…”

‘Here’ is no more than a clear, canopied stretch of wood, about twenty feet in diameter. Even with the autumn leaves almost gone, the forest is so thick at this juncture that while daylight trickles in, it’s sparse enough to be completely in shade.

Stiles shivers, though it isn’t from the cold. 

“They’re here,” he whispers.

“Who is here?” Derek brushes errant leaves off the sleeves of his jacket. “Where the hell are we?”

“Her home,” Stiles says simply. “See? There she is.”

Derek looks around, but he sees nothing.

“Stiles.” Her voice is beautiful, his name sounding melodious on her tongue.

“That’s me,” he says lightly, even though he’s more than a little apprehensive. But when the fairy drifts over to him, light on her feet and delicate in form, he instantly relaxes.

“I was hoping you would come.”

“I’m not sure how,” he confesses. “I just…something pulled me here.”

“Indeed, it did.”

“Stiles?” Derek turns to him, brow furrowed. “Who are you talking to?”

“I…” Stiles turns to the fairy. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Cirelle,” she says musically. “Though it won’t much matter to him.”

Stiles looks at Derek, who is still staring at him like he’s grown three heads. “Wait,” he says, turning back to Cirelle. “Can he not see you?”

“Nor hear me, I’m afraid.” Cirelle gently touches Stiles’ arm.

“So how do I-“

“We must be able to speak freely, Stiles. Here, allow me.” Cirelle closes her eyes, and flourishes a slender arm in Derek’s direction.

“Stiles, what-“ Derek cuts himself off, frozen in place.

Literally. Frozen. In place.

Stiles whirls on Cirelle. “What did you do to him?”

“He will be fine, pure heart. I simply kept him from getting in the way.”

Stiles takes in Derek’s body, eerily still, petrified in the same skeptical position he was in a moment before. “Can he hear us?”

“No. He cannot hear, he cannot move, he cannot speak. He will be fine,” the fairy says again. “But for now, you and I need to talk.”

“You know about the spell,” Stiles says.

“I do.”

“How do we break it?”

“Why ask questions to which you already know the answers?”

Stiles’ chest tightens. “Alpha werewolf mates don’t exactly grow on trees.”

She tilts her head. “Why would they need to?”

Stiles rolls his lips inward, unsure of how to respond.

Derek is still frozen in place next to him, eyes on the fairy even though his arms are outstretched, reaching for…

“You know what should be, even as you are afraid to chance the very same,” Cirelle says quietly.

Stiles. Derek is reaching for Stiles. “I’m just…convenient,” Stiles says. “Maybe if I get out of the way, he could find the one. He could find his mate.”

“Perhaps you aren’t in his way. Perhaps you’re in your own.”

He blinks. “What?”

“Let’s try an exercise, hmm? I’m going to ask a series of questions. No need to answer aloud. Simply let your heart respond instead of your head, okay, pure heart? Let it tell you what you need to know.”

“Okay, but I don’t see how-“

“Sometimes seeing isn’t always believing. Are you ready?”

Stiles inches closer to Derek’s frozen form. “I guess.”

“That will have to do. We shall start slow and easy. Are you Stiles Stilinski?”

“Duh.”

“Silently, pure heart. Focus. Who is your best friend?”

_Scott McCall. Who is currently a puppy. Also, my dad._

“Very good,” Cirelle murmurs. “What is it you wish, deep down in your strongest desires?”

_To see my mom again. To smell her, to feel her hug me one more time._

“You’ve known much pain for someone so young. Tell me, who is standing next to you?”

_Derek Hale._

“And who is he?”

_Uh. A werewolf. _His fingers tighten, making fists at his side. When Cirelle doesn’t speak, he continues. _One of the bravest, most selfless men I know. He’s a protector, a fighter, and he will put himself in danger because of it. _

_Even if it costs him everything he has left._

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut tighter, because what just went through his mind makes him terribly sad. It’s a physical pain, deep in his chest, at how much Derek has lost.

“Do you love him?”

_Yes._

He feels soft, feminine hands clasp his own. “Why haven’t you told him?”

“Because I don’t-“

“Your heart, pure heart. Let your heart speak, not your head.”

_Because what if I’m another burden he shouldn’t have to deal with. Because what if he loves someone else, and is too kind to tell me. _

_Because he shouldn’t be held back from finding his mate because of me. _

“Oh, sweet boy.”

Stiles almost chances a look at her, but is too embarrassed. “Are we done?”

“Almost. Tell me, who takes care of Derek?”

“Me. Everyone. The pack.”

She doesn’t scold him for talking aloud this time, but he somehow knows he shouldn’t do it again. “He trusts you all, then?”

_Yes. I think so, at least, as much as he can._

“His mate…do you think he should trust his mate?”

_Yes. His mate should be someone he trusts._

“Do you trust him?”

_With everything I have._

“And you love him.” She knows, and so does he.

It’s safe here, in the silence. She’s already asked him this, but maybe he needs to hear it again.

So Stiles answers truthfully. _Yes. With everything I have._

“Whom can Derek trust like that? Who should be his mate?”

_Me. It should be me._

Stiles eyes fly open.

Cirelle gives him a nod, and a soft smile.

Stiles looks at Derek, still immobile, still reaching out for him.

He puts his hands in Derek’s.

And just like that, Cirelle is gone.

Derek slips back into motion, like the last several minutes had never happened. “…is going on?” Derek is asking.

Stiles swallows, multiple times, trying to catch his breath. “Nothing.” He looks around, knowing he won’t see any trace of the fairy. "Nothing, Der. It’s fine. Take me home.”

Derek steps forward, cups his cheek. “Are you alright?”

Stiles turns into the warm palm, eyes falling shut for just a moment. “I’m fine. I’ll tell you about it when we get back, okay?”

“Stiles-“

“Please, Derek.” He reaches for Derek’s hands, and a spark of hope ignites inside him when Derek takes them with no hesitation. “Take me home.”

“Okay, Stiles.” Derek glances around, senses clearly on high alert. He eyes Stiles once more before grasping his hand more firmly to lead him out of the woods. “Okay.”

“Ohmygosh!” Erica comes flying out of the cabin when they arrive back in their own territory, her cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. “There you two are! You have to see this!”

Derek takes a look at the sky, afternoon quickly turning to dusk, rich reds and oranges and purples of fall painting the sky. What catches his attention, though, is the full moon. His heart rate picks up, all sorts of terrible things running through his mind. “What’s wrong? Is it the pups? Are they okay? Are you okay?” He tightens his fingers around Stiles’ hand.

“They’re…ohmygosh, Derek, Alpha…Stiles! Come see! It’s so cute!” She spins on her heels and rushes back inside.

Derek looks at Stiles, who shrugs. Curiosity highlights his features, but Derek can see an underlying fatigue there. No, not fatigue. Confusion?

“Derek! Come on!”

He shelves his thoughts and walks inside the cabin, still hand in hand with his mate.

“Oh. My. Gawd.” Stiles drops his hand and rushes into the living room. “Is that…are these…”

Derek’s mouth drops open at the sight in front of him.

His betas, having years of control, are still in their human form, even with the impending full moon. He’s proud of them, and would expect nothing less.

His pups, however…

“Derek!” Stiles looks at him, his rich brown doe eyes twinkling with excitement. “Is this what the full moon does to wolf pups?”

Derek shakes his head, and he thinks his mouth is moving, but no sound comes out. He joins Stiles where he’s now sitting on the floor with Scott and Isaac, their betas close by but giving them space.

Space to absorb the fact that their two little pups are clambering onto Stiles, completely wolfed out, no bigger than puppies, all soft fur and clumsy paws.

“They’re so fluffy!” Stiles exclaims. He cuddles their pups to his chest. Scotty is scrambling for his shoulders, while Isaac is trying to make a nest within his crossed legs. “Derek, they’re so freaking cute!”

Holy hell. His pups are…_pups._

Derek can’t move, can’t speak. It’s been a long time, since he’d been around true wolf cubs. Seeing his two mini-packmates, fluffy and fully shifted, no bigger than months-old pups, latching onto his mate like he hung the very moon that shifted them…

For a moment, Derek can’t breathe.

“Alright, even I can’t handle how cute this is.” Jackson’s voice breaks Derek out of his reverie, and in a flash he’s by Stiles’ side, pulling Scotty away before he accidentally scratches Stiles’ beautiful face.

“Hey,” Derek murmurs. “Hey, pup.” He pulls Scotty into his lap.

Scott’s mouth opens in a floppy grin, and he butts his furry head against Derek. His throat tightens, and it’s all he can do to stop his eyes from burning with unshed tears.

He hears Isaac yip, watches as his littlest pup tangles himself up in the jacket Stiles has yet to take off.

“We’re gonna give you a minute,” Lydia mutters, pulling on Jackson’s arm. “Come on, guys.”

Derek barely registers his betas leaving. He’s too engrossed in the way Scott feels, so tiny and soft in his arms, and the way Stiles is cooing at Isaac, his limber hands wrapped around the pup’s tiny, furry body.

“Derek,” Stiles says, drawing out his name as he nuzzles Isaac’s belly. “You know what you have to do.”

Derek looks over at him.

“Come on, DerBear. When will you have another chance to do this?”

“Stiles.”

“Derek.”

“You seriously want me to-“

“You want to, too, don’t lie. Besides, think of how happy it would make them!”

“And you,” Derek retorts, knowing just what his mate has in mind.

“And you! Don’t front. You can’t fool me. Hurry up. My phone is low on battery and I plan on taking tons of pictures and video.” Stiles flops down onto the floor, his face splitting into a grin as puppy Scott and puppy Isaac both jump onto his chest.

Derek blows out a breath, fighting a grin of his own. He wouldn’t just be doing this for Stiles, but he can’t let his mate get too smug. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Stiles’ pumps the air, even as he’s cuddling their pups. “Go on, then.”

Derek closes his eyes, takes a breath.

Then he lets his wolf take over, shifting into his full, four-legged form so he can play with his pups and his mate in his true Alpha form for as long as the full moon allows.


	16. Chapter 16

Derek always had a feeling that when his time came, he’d go down fighting. Even at his lowest, when he’d felt like he’d hit so far rock bottom that he no longer feared death, he always ended up claws out and fangs bared, his deep-seated survival instinct surging up to save him just in time.

So, on a sunny yet chilly November day, Derek doesn’t expect it to end like this.

Calm. Calculated. Surprised not by an ambush, not by the fanfare of a supernatural rival, but by a shrewd, quiet enemy whom Derek should have known - _dammit, he should have known - _would not have stayed hidden forever.

He should have known.

Derek doesn’t expect it to end like this.

With Stiles’ eyes, full of unshed tears and the love he’s professing to Derek, even as he reeks of fear.

With his pups, still so tiny, all fluffy paws and soft ears, whimpering and whining in terror as they lay tangled and trapped in a net too thick for their puppy teeth to break.

_They never had a chance,_ Derek thinks, even as he shifts his gaze from Stiles’ wet eyes to his captor’s blazing red ones. _If he had just been able to be honest with Stiles from the start, tell him he loved him, that he’s his mate, his love, his forever…_

Derek doesn’t expect it to end like this.

He always thought he’d go down fighting.

So when his world comes to a shocking, terrifying, halt…well. He doesn’t expect the paralyzing terror that roots him to the spot. Derek doesn’t know what to do, when it threatens to choke him, so all he does is stand, unmoving, frozen in fear.

He’s never cared before. He’s never cared this much, so much that he’s immobile with the fear of making the wrong decision.

“It’s your call, Derek.” That voice, one he’s heard only once, back when he was a child, sends a shiver down his spine. “Even after what your family did to mine, I will give you one last moment of control.”

He knows what the choice comes down to. He knows what he’s about to hear.

“Time is running out, Alpha Hale.”

Derek swallows back bile when the blade glints in the sunlight, sharp and shiny where it’s pressed right up against Stiles’ jugular.

He can feel the heat of the bonfire, several yards away, over which the net that holds his pups is suspended.

No…Derek doesn’t expect it to end like this.

“Your choice, Derek,” that voice says again. “Your mate, or your pups. You won’t have time to save both.”

“Derek,” Stiles whispers. His hands come up to grip his captor’s forearm, and Derek shakes his head in silent terror because the motion jostles that sharp, shiny blade even closer to his mate’s fragile, precious neck. “I love you,” Stiles is saying.

Derek can barely hear him, over the blood rushing his ears.

“My mate,” Stiles chokes out, so beautiful, so strong. “I love you.”

“Stiles, _no!” _

Stiles falls to the ground, as Derek’s howl of rage echoes throughout the entire forest.

_Earlier that day_

“Not that I’m complaining, because our pups are the floofiest floofs to ever floof, but shouldn’t they be turned back by now?” Stiles lifts his arm, lets Isaac hang from it, his little paws wrapped around Stiles’ bicep.

“I would have thought so.” Derek stoops down as Scotty crawls along his broad shoulders, yipping in delight and playfully nipping Derek’s ears. He sits down next to Stiles and brings his arm overhead to catch Scott and nestle him in his lap. “Maybe the full moon and the curse-“

“Spell.”

“-are warring with each other,” Derek finishes. He plucks Isaac off of Stiles when he sees tiny claw marks appearing on Stiles’ skin. “It figures that the one time you play with clawed pups, you’re actually in short sleeves.”

“You’re all like mini furnaces,” Stiles retorts. “It got too hot, with these furballs climbing all over me, and you all up in my space.”

Derek leans over, tucking his face into Stiles’ neck. “I never heard you complaining,” he whispers into Stiles’ skin, darting his tongue out to trace the spot his wolf is dying to claim.

“Ah, no,” Stiles manages. He tilts his head, baring his throat, and Derek almost tosses the pups off their laps to take Stiles right there. “No complaining. Nope. Opposi-itttte, oh God, of complaining, when you do that with your- ohmygod, Derek, _stop.”_

Derek does, jerking backwards.

Stiles’ hand cups his cheek. “Because it felt so good, idiot. Not because I don’t want it.”

His shoulders relax. “Oh.”

Stiles pecks his lips. “Yeah, oh. You think I don’t want your mouth all over me?”

Derek speaks against Stiles’ mouth, letting his lips and tongue linger on his mate’s. “Yeah?”

Stiles shivers. “Yeah.”

Scott tumbles off his lap, playfully snapping at Isaac to come play. Derek takes advantage of the opportunity and leans into Stiles, so far that his mate falls back onto his elbows. “Where, Stiles? Where do you want my mouth?”

“Everywhere,” Stiles breathes. His hands wrap around Derek’s neck, warm and lithe and open. He blinks up at Derek, where he’s now intimately hovered over his mate on the living room floor. “Want you…everywhere.”

Derek groans and thrusts his hips into Stiles, swallowing the whimper that erupts from his pretty lips. Stiles’ thighs fall apart, letting Derek slide in between them, and he can’t help it, he starts rocking into Stiles, moving them together, slow, hard, so good-

“Derek,” Stiles whispers.

“Stiles,” Derek moans, jerking his hips, his hands sliding down Stiles’ beautiful body to grip those slim hips, to pull him closer.

“Derek, I…I need to tell you-“ It’s sinful, it’s gorgeous, the way Stiles’ hips undulate beneath his own.

“I know,” Derek whispers. “Me too. God, Stiles, I-“

“I don’t want you to-“

“I couldn’t,” Derek swears. Stiles grapples for his hands and Derek catches them, threading their fingers together. “It’s you, Stiles, it’s always been you.”

“Are you saying…oh, _fuck,_ yes, like that, right there, Derek I’m gonna…”

“Yes.” Derek sinks his fangs into his bottom lip, trying to hold back, wanting to chase Stiles’ pleasure right along with him.

“Derek!” The start of Stiles’ orgasm vibrates throughout his entire being. His eyes are hooded, deep in ecstasy but Derek can see the unfinished question swimming in them, even as Stiles’ face twists in glorious pleasure.

Derek comes hard, choking out the words as he crashes right alongside Stiles. “Need you,” he chants, pressing kisses to Stiles’ mouth, his neck, anywhere he can reach. “Need you, my partner, my human, my Stiles, my mate-“

“DEREK!” The front door swings open so hard it slams into the wall behind. Erica’s voice is terrified, frantic. “In town, they found us in town, he said-“

Derek is up like a shot, placing his body between Stiles and his betas. “Who found you? Who said?”

“No! Don’t touch them!” Stiles screams, vaulting to his feet.

Derek turns to see him running for the sliding glass door, where a dark blur has just made a hasty exit. He grunts as something sharp pierces his neck, and his hand instinctively reaches for the dart now sticking out of his flesh.

“Come back!” Stiles yells, racing after whomever just snatched their pups. “You bastard, come back!” His voice is fading, and so does Stiles, disappearing into the night to try to catch up with their pups.

Derek watches, unable to move, to speak, poison pumping through his veins.

“Derek!” Erica is at his side in a second, yanking the dart from his neck. “What-“

“Go,” he chokes out. “Find them. This will wear off. He wants…me to follow…”

“I can’t leave you-“

“Erica, _GO_!” he roars. “I’ll find you by scent. Just need…a minute…to-“

She’s out the door before he even finishes his sentence.

No…Derek doesn’t expect it to end like this.

“Your choice, Derek,” that voice says again. “Your mate, or your pups. You won’t have time to save both.”

He’d fought with everything he had to keep his focus once the poison dart had been pulled out. It would be fast-acting, he knew. This was all a game to him.

Fenrir Doubard had done the same thing to Derek’s mother. Only that time, he and Laura had been the pups he’d stolen.

He and Laura had been the pups suspended over a pit of fire, while his mother had looked between them and his father.

“Your choice, Derek,” that voice says again, and Derek forces himself back to the present. “Your mate, or your pups. You won’t have time to save both.”

“Derek,” Stiles whispers. His hands come up to grip his captor’s forearm, and Derek shakes his head in silent terror because the motion jostles that sharp, shiny blade even closer to his mate’s fragile, precious neck. “I love you,” Stiles is saying.

Derek can barely hear him, over the blood rushing his ears.

“My mate,” Stiles chokes out, so beautiful, so strong. “I love you.”

“Stiles, _no!” _

Stiles falls to the ground, as Derek’s howl of rage echoes throughout the entire forest.

Stiles drops, heavy but agile, to the ground at his captor’s feet. He slides the syringe of wolfsbane laced with mountain ash from his jeans pocket, the one he’d sewn in after Deaton had given him the lethal concoction.

He twists as soon as his ass hits the ground and jabs it into his captor’s thigh, sinking his thumb down so the entire vial is emptied into the werewolf’s bloodstream. “Derek!” He screams. “The pups!” Stiles can hear their whimpering even over the roaring of the fire they’re trapped above.

Derek has already vaulted off the ground, a blur of dark, beautiful strength as he leaps over the fire to slash through the net, Isaac and Scott grasped tightly to his chest as they crash to the ground safely on the other side of the fire.

He hugs the pups close when Derek thrusts them into his arms and jerks away. Stiles turns away from where the other wolf lies writhing on the ground, knowing what his mate is about to do, and not wanting to see it.

The sound of torn flesh, spurting blood, and a choked off scream confirms Stiles suspicions.

Whoever that was, he wouldn’t ever come after them again.

“Stiles.” Derek yanks him to his chest, the pups squished protectively between them. “You scared the shit out of me, _dammit_, Stiles, when you fell, I…don’t you _ever_ do something like that again!”

“You mean save your sorry ass?” Stiles smiles through the tears rolling down his cheeks as he tucks his face into Scott’s fur and wraps and arm around Isaac. Derek is holding all three of them, repeating over and over how stupid Stiles is, how brave he is, how fucking strong you are, Stiles, don’t scare me like that, _I love you._

Enclosed in Derek’s arms, Stiles faintly registers their betas catching up to them, hears Derek tell them to check the rest of the woods, though they both know the danger is long gone.

“Stiles.” Derek tips his chin up from where it’s buried in their pups’ fur. “Did you mean it?”

He swallows the quip that’s on his tongue, because the still burning fire is turning Derek’s eyes alight with fear, with nerves, with…hope.

“Yes,” Stiles whispers. He clears his throat. “I meant it. I know you have to find-“

Derek cuts him off, pressing his lips to Stiles’. “I already have,” he murmurs. “God, Stiles, I think I’ve loved you since you held me up in that damn pool.”

“So I’m-“

“My mate. My mate, my love…” Derek’s mouth flits over his lips, his cheeks, his closed eyes. “You’re my everything.”

Hot water sprays over their naked bodies, washing away the dirt and terror from the night. Derek has his hands in Stiles’ hair, scrubbing every trace of Fenrir’s scent off his mate. He’ll tell Stiles who Doubard was, one day. But not tonight.

Tonight was for them.

Tonight was slow kisses in the shower, skin on skin to reassure themselves of the other’s heartbeat. It was a quiet night spent in their room, knowing their betas guarded the cabin and its surrounding areas.

It was for whispered words, _mate, love, love you, forever, mate, mine _and shared space.

It was for cuddling their pups, back into their human form but still little, snuggling with them in bed because they knew it was their last chance to have this, to have all of this innocent love nestled between them.

“Sty-wes.”

“Yeah, Scotty pup,” Stiles whispers.

“Dewek Sti-ewes.”

“Yes, baby.” Derek lifts his hand, still joined with Stiles, to ruffle Isaac’s curls.

“We rawr?”

“That’s right, pup.” Derek’s throat has never felt so tight. “You’re wolves. Our strong little wolves.”

“So fierce,” Stiles agrees, and Derek can hear his breath catch.

“We hewp?” God, he’s going to miss Isaac’s little voice.

“We the awesomest!” He won’t ever forget the feeling of Scott’s tiny, trusting hand in his.

“Derek.” Stiles is breaking, and even though everything within him wants to pass the pups off to Lydia and make his mate his, to take him, _claim _him, Derek can’t, not when this is one last thing he can give his mate.

“I know,” he tells Stiles, wiping tears off his mate’s soft cheeks. “I know.”

“I love you,” Stiles says fiercely. “But I’m not ready to-“

“I know, sweetheart.” Derek lifts the pups up with one arm and tugs Stiles into his chest with the other. Once he’s firmly wrapped around Stiles, he lowers the pups into Stiles’ arms, cuddling his mate closer so he can hold them all tight. “We have tonight. It’s okay. It can wait.”

Stiles nods, lips pursed together too tightly to speak. He turns his head up and back, catching Derek’s mouth, kissing him with everything Derek knows he’s too choked up to say.

An hour passes, and neither one of them sleep, though the pups are snoring softly in Stiles’ arms.

“They deserved this, Der,” Stiles says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“So did you.”

He doesn’t know how to respond, so he just holds Stiles tighter.

“I miss them. They deserve to be themselves again.” Stiles turns in his arms, bringing the sleeping pups with him, so they are once again nestled between the two mates. “But this has been…” His voice fades away. After a moment, he says, “Thank you for calling me that night.”

Derek kisses Stiles, soft, slow, and sweet. “We have tonight,” he repeats, just as loathe to say goodbye to their pups as Stiles. “And even after that, you and I, we have forever.”

Stiles smiles against his lips. “Forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY LOVES. There are no words to express my appreciation for you and all the love you've left on this fic. I purposely left out the pups growing back up...I feel we all deserve our own interpretations for this.
> 
> What I will tell you is I have lots of ideas to follow up with this little family, now that Derek and Stiles are mates and have realized how much they love being parents. In my mind, it's the perfect setup for even-adult-Isaac to realize how safe he is with his new parents, how much they love him, and how much they will understand (and relish!) if he needs to be little again sometimes. So if de-aged Isaac with Sterek parents is yo thang, I hope you'll look out for the follow up fics I have planned for this series!  
In the meantime, I am off to go focus on some original works for NaNo...but rest assured I have no plans to desert this family entirely!  
Thanks so much for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm overwhelmed by the response this fic has gotten! Thank you so much for reading, and for the comments and kudos!  
Stay safe and well, my lovelies.These are tough times for us all, and I hope fics are helping you like they are me.


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